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LEE  AND  SHEPARD    PUBLISHERS    BOSTON 


er  CAUT.  LIBRARY,  urn  ANKKLKA 


HIS    ONE     FAULT 


BY 

J.    T.    TROWBRIDGE 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 
LEE  AND  SHEPARD  PUBLISHERS 

10  MILK  STREET  NBXT  "  THE  OLD  SOOTH  MEETING  HOUSE" 


COPYRIGHT,  1886,  BY  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 
All  Rights  Reserved. 

HIS  ON>   FAULT. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  FAOB 

I.    KIT  is  INTRODUCED 9 

II.    KIT  ON  THE  FARM 17 

III.  THE  STOLEN  HORSE 25 

IV.  FOLLOWING  THE  TRACKS 35 

V.    IN  HOT  PURSUIT 43 

VI.    AT  THE  CATTLE-SHOW 53 

VII.    How  CASH  BRUNLOW  HELPED 65 

VIII.    THE  HOME-STRETCH 75 

IX.    "THE  BEATERMOST  DUNDERPATE" 85 

X.    "AN  UNCONSCIONABLE  SCRAPE" 92 

XI.    A  ROGUE'S  STRATEGY 102 

XII.    THE  BENTING  BOYS 108 

XIII.  THE  RETURN  TRIP 116 

XIV.  KIT'S  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 126 

XV.    AT  MAPLE  PARK 132 

XVI.    ELSIE  AND  THE  CAPTIVE 140 

XVII.    "A  PERFECTLY  CLEAR  CASE" 147 

XVIII.    KIT  AND  MR.  BENTING 157 

XIX.    MORE  BLUNDERS 167 

XX.    ELI  BADGER'S  GRAPES 175 

XXI.    ELI  BADGER'S  CUDGEL 185 

XXII.    THE  WRONG  BOY 190 

7 


2133250 


CONTENTS. 


XXIII.    THE  RIGHT  HORSE 


199 


XXIV.  KIT  is  INVITED  TO  RIDE 208 

XXV.  "A  JUSTIFIABLE  STRATAGEM" 215 

XXVI.  KIT  MAKES  A  CONFESSION 224 

XXVII.  "  WAL,  F'R  INSTANCE!" 234 

XXVIII.  "A  GOOD  OFFER" 243 

XXIX.  ELSIE'S  THIMBLE  AND  SCISSORS 252 

XXX.  KIT  COMES   FOR  THE   SADDLE  AND  BRIDLE    .     .      .  265 

XXXI.  How  BRUNLOW  KNOCKED  DOWN  THE  PEG  ...  270 


HIS    ONE    FAULT. 


CHAPTER   I. 

KIT    IS    INTRODUCED. 

"  T   ET  the  boy  come  and  live  with  me,  and  I  will 

••-'  be  a  father  to  him,"  said  Uncle  Gray. 

He  was  a  hook-nosed,  wiry  man,  with  weather- 
beaten  cheeks,  and  a  voice  cracked  by  asthma,  and 
made  still  more  harsh  by  driving  slow  oxen  all  his 
Me.  The  cheeks  twitched  a  little,  however,  and 
there  was  an  unwonted  softness  in  his  tones,  as  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  addressed  these  words 
to  the  weeping  woman  on  the  sofa. 

The  weeping  woman  was  his  wife's  brother's  wife, 
or  rather  widow  ;  for  it  was  now  nine  days  since 
Christopher  Downimede,  the  village  tinsmith,  had 
scratched  his  thumb  with  a  ragged-edged  piece  of 
metal,  and  three  days  since  he  had  been  carried  to  his 
grave,  a  victim  of  that  mysterious  and  terrible  dis- 
ease, lockjaw. 

The  boy  alluded  to  was  Christopher  the  younger, 
better  known  in  the  village  as  Kit ;  now  sixteen 

9 


IO  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

years  old,  and  capable,  it  was  thought,  of  beginning 
to  earn  his  own  living. 

This  it  seemed  quite  necessary  that  he  should  do ; 
for  the  late  Mr.  Downimede,  although  a  thrifty 
mechanic,  had  spent  his  earnings  in  the  support  of 
his  family,  and  left  but  little  property,  except  some 
stock  in  trade  and  the  house  they  lived  in. 

"  He  can  come  and  live  with  me,"  said  Uncle  Gray, 
"  and  be  a  farmer ;  I  shall  be  glad  enough  to  have 
somebody  to  shift  the  care  and  burden  onter  in  a  few 
years.  You  can  keep  the  younger  childr'n  in  school, 
let  a  part  of  your  house,  and  take  in  a  little  sewin',  and, 
I  guess,  git  along.  Here,  Christopher !  Christopher ! " 

Hearing  his  uncle  call,*  Kit,  who  was  outside, 
came  into  the  house.  He  was  a  rather  bashful  boy, 
with  plump,  red  cheeks,  which  showed  a  distressing 
tendency  to  blush  on  occasions  of  the  least  embar- 
rassment, but  which  had  been  looking  unusually 
colorless  since  the  shocking  calamity  that  had  bereft 
him  of  the  kindest  of  fathers.  He  was  a  little  scared 
at  sight  of  his  mother  in  tears,  and  of  his  uncle's 
solemn  visage,  but  advanced  manfully  to  hear  the 
result  of  the  consultation. 

"I  ben  thinkin"  o'  your  case,  Christopher,"  said 
Uncle  Gray,  "and  talkin'  to  your  ma  about  you. 
What's  your  idee  o*  gitt'n*  a  livin'  ? " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  II 

Poor  Kit  had  to  confess  that  he  hadn't  any  ideas 
on  the  subject. 

"  You  haint  any  gre't  hankerin'  after  an  edecation, 
have  ye?"  said  Uncle  Gray. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  care  to  go  to  college,"  Kit 
replied.  "Though  if  pa  had  lived,"  —  he  choked  a 
little,  —  "I  suppose  I  should  have  kept  on  going  to 
school  two  or  three  years  longer." 

"To  be  sure;  if  he  had  lived."  Uncle  Gray 
coughed  to  clear  his  throat.  "  But  as  't  is,  it's  time 
for  you  to  be  considerin'  what  you're  a-gun  ter  make 
of  yourself.  Ye  don't  fancy  his  trade  pa'tic'larly, 
do  ye  ? " 

"  I  don't  fancy  it  at  all,"  said  Kit.  "  I  won't  be  a 
tinner." 

"So  I  thought.  And  I  don't  blame  ye.  Wai, 
now,"  continued  Uncle  Gray,  "how  would  ye  like 
the  farm  ? " 

"  The  farm  ?  "  said  Kit.     "  What  farm  ? " 

"Wai,  f'r  instance,  my  farm.  I've  got  a  good 
place  for  ye  there,  if  you'd  like  to  come.  We've  no 
boys  of  our  own,  since  Andy  died,"  —  the  harsh- 
toned  voice  softened  again,  — "  and  me  and  your 
Aunt  Gray  have  ben  thinkin'  't  would  be  jest  the 
thing  fer  you  to  come  and  live  with  us,  and  be  like 
our  own  son,  and  graj'ally  slip  yer  neck  into  the 


12  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

yoke  as   mine   slips  out.     How  do   you   think   you 
would  like  it  ? " 

Kit  had  pleasant  recollections  of  the  farm,  from 
having  visited  it  often  in  sugar-making  time  and 
huckleberry  time,  and  enjoyed  the  hospitalities  of 
Uncle  and  Aunt  Gray. 

"  I  think  I  should  like  it,"  he  said,  "  only  "  —  he 
caught  his  breath  —  "I  don't  want  to  leave  ma  — 
just  now." 

"That's  right,  that's  right,"  said  Uncle  Gray,  ap- 
provingly. "  Glad  to  hear  ye  say  that.  But  ye 
can't  live  tied  to  her  apron-strings  all  your  life.  It's 
in  the  natur'  of  things  that  childr'n,  'specially  boys, 
should  strike  out  and  do  for  themselves.  Though 
yer  livin'  with  me'll  be  a'most  like  bein'  to  hum  ; 
you  can  come  and  see  your  ma,  and  your  ma  can 
come  and  see  you,  often  enough.  Think  on't,  will 
ye !  and  le'  me  know  to-morrow,  when  I'll  be  round 
agin." 

Think  of  it  Kit  did,  with  many  a  pang  of  grief  at 
the  recollection  of  his  father,  who  had  been  so  much 
more  to  him  than  he  had  ever  dreamed  until  he  came 
to  need  his  love  and  counsel. 

"  If  he  was  only  here  to  tell  me  what  I  had  better 
do!"  he  said  to  his  mother,  as  they  talked  the  mat- 
ter over  that  night,  in  the  sad  loneliness  of  their 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  13 

little  home.  "  I  can't  make  it  seem  that  he  never 
will  be  here  any  more.  But  I  know  I  shall  have  to 
depend  upon  myself  now." 

"  Yes,  my  son,"  said  the  widow,  in  a  stifled  voice. 
"  There  never  was  a  more  upright  nor  a  more  gener- 
ous man  in  his  family,  than  your  father,  while  he  lived. 
But  the  prop  of  the  house  has  been  taken  away. 
Heaven  knows  I  would  gladly  keep  you  with  me,  and 
do  for  you  as  he  would  have  done,  if  it  was  in  my 
power." 

The  mother  and  son  sobbed  softly  together  in  the 
gloomy  silence.  Then  Kit  said  :  — 

"  There's  no  use  wishing  things  could  be  different. 
I  know  I  have  got  my  living  to  work  for,  and  I  may 
as  well  do  it  on  Uncle  Gray's  farm  as  anywhere." 

"  Uncle  and  Aunt  Gray  have  always  been  kind  to 
you,"  suggested  the  widow. 

"  Yes,  in  their  fashion,"  said  Kit.  "  They're  good- 
hearted  folks.  But  a  dollar  looks  pretty  big  to  them." 

"  They're  getting  old,  and  will  soon  have  a  good 
many  dollars  to  leave  to  somebody,"  the  mother 
again  suggested.  She  was  not  mercenary,  and  yet 
she  thought  it  best  to  speak  plainly  of  the  prospect 
before  Christopher,  in  case  he  should  accept  Uncle 
Gray's  proposal.  "  It's  a  small  farm,  but  a  good  one, 
and  they  have  money  at  interest." 


14  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  I  believe  the  boy  Uncle  Gray  is  a  father  to," 
replied  Kit,  after  a  little  reflection,  "  will  have  to 
earn  every  dollar  he  gets  of  them.  They  work  hard 
themselves  ;  and  they  don't  believe  much  in  any- 
body's sitting  around  on  the  clover-banks,  watching 
the  bees  and  butterflies.  Even  when  I've  been  visit- 
ing them  they  have  made  me  earn  my  board  by 
doing  lots  of  little  chores.  But  I  never  much  cared ; 
I  like  the  farm,  and  I've  had  good  times  out  there. 
Maybe  I'd  better  go  ;  for  I  don't  know  what  else  I 
can  do.  I  shall  be  near  you,  and  if  I  do  well  I  can 
help  you.  Perhaps  I  can  make  a  home  for  us  all 
some  day." 

When  Uncle  Gray  called  the  next  morning,  he 
was  "  rej'iced,"  as  he  said,  to  hear  that  Kit  had 
come  to  so  sensible  a  conclusion.  The  widow  was 
anxious  to  know  just  what  he  proposed  to  do  for  her 
boy,  in  the  way  of  being  "  a  father  to  him  "  ;  but 
the  worthy  farmer  was  not  prepared  to  meet  that 
point. 

"  Wait  till  we  see  how  he  takes  holt,"  he  said. 
"If  he  does  well  by  me,  I'll  do  well  by  him  ;  you 
may  count  on  that.  The  only  way  will  be  for  him  to 
come  and  try  it  a  few  months  ;  then  we  can  settle 
the  matter  more  definitely.  We'll  see  how  useful 
he  makes  himself." 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  15 

The  widow  gave  her  boy  much  good  advice  when 
the  time  for  parting  with  him  arrived. 

"You're  a  smart  boy,  Christopher,  and  you're  a 
well-meaning  boy.  You're  no  shirk ;  and  you're 
strong  and  active.  But  you  have  one  fault,  which 
I'm  afraid  will  try  your  uncle's  patience,  as  it  has 
often  tried  your  father's  and  mine,  —  your  heedless- 
ness.  Why  is  it  you  are  sometimes  so  forgetful  of 
things,  right  under  your  eyes,  that  you  are  expected 
to  attend  to  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Kit,  ruefully.  "  But  I  seem 
to  be  thinking  of  something  else." 

"  You  must  try  not  to  be  so  absent-minded,"  the 
widow  resumed,  in  a  tone  more  of  entreaty  than  of 
chiding.  "  Your  uncle  won't  put  up  with  your  fault 
as  your  father  and  I  have  done.  If  you  were  a  stupid 
boy,  we  shouldn't  expect  so  much  of  you.  But  you're 
anything  but  stupid  ;  you're  one  of  the  brightest  boys 
I  ever  saw,  when  you  have  your  wits  about  you." 

Kit  could  not  forbear  a  smile  of  gratification  at 
this  compliment,  which  was  not  ill-deserved.  He 
had  indeed  a  village  reputation  for  his  witty  retorts. 
"  Have  you  heard  Kit's  last  joke  ? "  was  a  common 
query  among  the  East  Adam  boys,  always  sure  to 
excite  curiosity  and  provoke  a  laugh.  It  was  sad 
now  to  think  what  his  very  last  joke  was. 


l6  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

Some  West  Adam  boys,  with  whom  the  East 
Adam  boys  were  at  war,  tried  to  plague  him  one 
day  by  ridiculing  his  father's  business.  They  called 
the  tin-shop  a  shin-top,  and  went  bawling  through 
the  streets,  "  Kit's  daddy  keeps  a  shin-top !  Kit's 
daddy  keeps  a  shin-top  ! "  to  the  vexation  of  Kit, 
who  was  sensitive  on  that  point.  He  kept  cool, 
however,  and  called  out :  — 

"  It's  easy  enough  to  sing  a  silly  thing  like  that, 
but  not  one  of  you  can  tell  what  kind  of  ware  you 
will  always  find  at  a  shin-top."  He  ridiculed  them, 
in  return,  for  their  stupid  guesses,  and  finally  in- 
formed them  that  it  was  a  kind  of  pan.  "  Don't  you 
know,  you  numbskulls  ?  A  knee-pan  !  " 

The  West  Adamites  looked  down  foolishly  at  the 
tops  of  their  own  shins,  and  went  off  amidst  the 
gleeful  laughter  of  the  East  Adamites  who  had 
heard  the  dispute.  • 

"  They  never  will  sing  that  again ! "  his  friends 
said  triumphantly. 

They  never  would,  indeed  !  Kit  sobered  now  at 
the  recollection,  and  thought  that  he  would  not 
mind  what  anybody  said  or  sang,  if  his  father  were 
only  back  there  in  the  old  tin-shop,  and  in  his 
broken,  lonely  home. 


CHAPTER   II. 

KIT    ON    THE    FARM. 

TT   was   corn-planting   time,  and  Kit  had  a   good 

chance,  to  begin  with,  to  show  his  uncle  how 
"  useful "  he  could  be  on  the  farm.  He  took  the 
place  of  one  hired  man  at  the  start,  and  lamed  his 
back  and  blistered  his  hands,  and  got  homesick 
enough,  during  the  first  week. 

He  was  a  plucky  lad,  however;  and  when  he  went 
home,  on  Sunday,  he  did  not  show  his  blisters,  nor 
complain  to  his  mother  of  the  difference  between 
living  on  the  farm  and  visiting  it  occasionally.  And 
when  she  said,  with  motherly  concern,  that  she 
feared  the  work  was  too  hard  for  him,  he  replied 
stoutly  :  — 

"It's  pretty  hard,  as  the  rat  said  of  the  old  cheese- 
rind  ;  but  I  guess  I  can  stand  it,  if  the  cheese  can. 
I'm  not  like  the  boy  who  was  apprenticed  to  a  black- 
smith, and,  after  blowing  the  bellows  two  days,  said 
he  was  sorry  he  had  learned  the  trade." 

The  widow  was  cheered  to  see  her  boy  in  such 
brave  spirits,  and  told  him,  with  a  gush  of  affection, 
that  he  was  the  hope  of  her  life. 

17 


18  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

Inwardly  resolved  that  she  should  not  be  disap- 
pointed in  him,  he  returned  to  the  farm,  and  soon 
worked  off  the  lameness  of  his  back,  his  homesick- 
ness, and  the  tenderness  of  his  palms.  His  muscles 
hardened,  his  joints  grew  strong,  his  blistered  hands 
became  callous,  and  the  longer  he  stayed  the  better 
contented  he  was  with  the  place. 

His  one  serious  fault  clung  to  him,  however,  and 
sorely  vexed  Uncle  Gray,  who  one  day  declared  :  — 

"  You're  as  willing  a  youngster  as  ever  I  see  ;  but 
the  beatermost  dunderpate  in  all  creation.  Now, 
there's  that  grass-hook  ;  you  had  it  a-cutt'n'  off  them 
thistle-tops,  and  you  dropped  it  somewheres,  and, 
Jike  as  not,  we  never  shall  see  it  agin.  Why  can't  ye 
take  care  o'  things  ? " 

"I  don't  know,"  Kit  murmured,  penitently.  "I 
forget." 

"  You  forgit ! "  Uncle  Gray  repeated,  sternly. 
"  You  had  lost  the  whetstone  afore  that ;  and  I 
should  think  I  scolded  ye  enough  fer  't,  so  you'd  'a' 
ben  a  little  mite  more  careful." 

"  I  should  think  so  too  !  "  replied  Christopher. 

"And  where,  fr  instance,  do  you  think  I  found 
the  iron  rake  that  disappeared  so  strangely  ? 
A-hangin'  in  the  apple-tree,  jest  where  you  had  used 
it  last,  a-pokin'  at  the  worms'  nests.  It  never  '11  du  in 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  19 

the  world  to  go  on  at  this  rate !  Graj'ally  things  '11 
go,  and  I  sha'n't  have  a  tool  to  lay  my  hands  on, 
next  I  know.  Be  ye  asleep?  Or  what  is  the 
matter?" 

Kit  smarted  under  these  reproofs  all  the  more 
because  he  felt  they  were  deserved.  He  answered 
humbly :  — 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  am  a  downright  fool ;  but  I  do 
believe  there  is  a  fool-streak  in  me.  If  I  get  my 
mind  on  one  thing  I  go  off  in  a  sort  of  dream,  and 
mind  nothing  else.  I'll  try  to  do  better." 

"  You  must !  "  Uncle  Gray  insisted.  "  I  want  a 
boy  I  can  depend  on  ;  and  I  never  can  depend  on 
one  that  goes  blunderin'  through  the  world  in 
this  way.  Now  take  my  advice,  and  mind  what 
you're  up  tu  !  " 

Kit  improved  somewhat  after  this.  Yet,  if  a 
shovel  was  mislaid,  or  a  heifer  overlooked  in  the 
milking,  or  a  calf  left  to  bawl  for  its  supper,  Kit  was 
always  the  culprit. 

So  anxious  was  he  to  correct  his  bad  habit  that  he 
used  often  to  ask  himself  in  the  evening  if  there  was 
anything  he  had  neglected  during  the  day,  and  to 
punish  himself  by  attending  to  it  then,  if  it  was  not 
too  late.  In  this  way  he  reminded  himself,  one  night, 
as  he  was  going  to  bed,  that  when  he  took  care 


2O  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

of  the  horse  after  his  uncle  drove  home  from  the  vil- 
lage, he  had  knocked  the  whip  out  of  the  wagon,  and 
forgotten  to  pick  it  up. 

"I  know  just  where  it  is,"  he  said  to  himself; 
"and  I'm  not  going  to  let  Uncle  Gray  find  it  there 
in  the  morning  and  give  me  a  scolding." 

He  had  pulled  off  his  clothes  and  put  out  the 
light.  He  pulled  them  on  again  in  the  dark,  and 
went  softly  down  stairs,  not  meaning  to  betray  his 
blunder  by  disturbing  the  old  folks,  who  had  also 
retired. 

He  groped  his  way  to  the  kitchen,  and  ran  his 
fingers  along  the  door-frame  for  the  key  of  the 
stable,  which  was  left  there.  He  found  it  hanging 
securely  on  its  nail ;  for  if  there  was  one  thing 
which  Uncle  Gray  would  never  trust  to  anybody 
else,  but  always  looked  after  himself,  it  was  the  lock- 
ing up,  at  bedtime,  of  his  barn  and  dwelling. 

The  night  was  dark,  for,  though  there  was  a  moon, 
according  to  the  almanac,  the  sky  threatened  rain, 
and  a  few  sprinkles  fell  on  Kit's  hand  as  he  reached 
out,  feeling  for  the  stable  door.  This  he  unlocked, 
and  passed  on  into  the  barn,  where  he  felt  the  buggy 
all  over,  to  make  sure  that  he  had  not,  in  an  absent- 
minded  way,  put  the  whip  back  into  it.  No ;  it 
must  be  on  the  grass  outside,  where  it  fell. 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  21 

He  had  kicked  about  in  search  of  it  as  he  ap- 
proached the  barn  ;  but  he  now  went  out  again  and 
made  a  more  thorough  exploration,  with  both  feet 
and  hands.  He  was  rewarded,  after  a  little  while,  by 
entangling  his  toes  in  the  lash  (he  was  barefoot); 
and  with  the  comfortable  consciousness  of  duty 
done,  having  put  the  whip  in  place,  he  groped  back 
into  the  house. 

As  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  chamber-stairs,  his 
uncle  called  out  to  him  :  — 

"  That  you,  Christopher  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Kit  replied,  and  immediately  turned 
to  the  water-pail,  to  provide  himself  with  an  excuse 
for  his  untimely  movements. 

"  What  are  you  prowling  about  the  house  after 
bedtime  for  ?  "  Uncle  Gray  demanded. 

"  I'm  getting  a  drink  of  water,"  Kit  said,  which 
was  true  enough  at  that  moment. 

"  Couldn't  you  think  of  that  afore  you  went  to 
bed  ? "  growled  Uncle  Gray.  "  I  wonder  what  you 
will  forgit  next !  " 

Alas,  what  had  not  Kit  already  forgotten,  in  his 
anxiety  to  find  the  whip  and  get  back  to  bed  without 
arousing  the  old  folks !  The  morning  was  to  show. 

He  was  awakened  shortly  after  daybreak  by  his 
uncle  pounding  on  the  stairs  with  a  cane,  which  he 


22  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

kept  for  the  purpose,  and  calling,  "  Come,  boy,  time 
to  be  stirrin' !  Ye  gun  ter  lay  abed  all  day  ?  " 

Kit  made  a  yawning  answer,  and  was  leisurely 
pulling  on  his  trousers,  when  Uncle  Gray  came 
again  to  the  stairway,  and  the  voice,  rendered  harsh 
by  asthma  and  long  experience  in  driving  sluggish 
oxen,  thundered  forth  :  — 

"  Where's  the  key  to  the  stable  ?  D'ye  know  any- 
thing about  it  ? " 

"  Isn't  it  there  ? "  stammered  the  boy,  remember- 
ing with  consternation  that  he  had  used  the  key  the 
night  before,  but  utterly  unable  to  remember  what 
he  had  done  with  it. 

"  There  ?     Where  ?  "  roared  the  angry  uncle. 

"  Hanging  by  the  door,"  faltered  Kit. 

He  fumbled  in  his  pockets  as  he  sat  on  the  bed, 
frightened,  half-dressed,  his  hair  tumbled,  a  picture 
of  comical  dismay,  which  he  perceived  by  the  dim 
light  when  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  looking-glass  on 
the  bare  wall ;  although  he  did  not  notice  anything 
very  comical  in  it  at  the  time. 

"  It  aint  hangin'  by  the  door  !  "  said  Uncle  Gray ; 
"  though  I'm  sure  I  put  it  there  last  night.  Have 
you  had  it  since?" 

"I  —  I  believe  —  I  did  take  it,"  the  guilty  one 
confessed,  appearing  at  the  head  of  the  gloomy  stair- 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  23 

way,  jacket  in  hand.  "  But  I  thought  I  put  it  back 
again." 

"  Thought  ye  put  it  back  agin ! "  echoed  Uncle 
Gray,  with  savage  sarcasm.  "  I  wonder  ye  don't 
forgit  to  breathe  some  time.  Aint  it  in  yer 
pockets  ?  " 

Kit  fumbled  again  helplessly. 

"  Ye  didn't  leave  it  in  the  stable-door,  did  ye  ? " 

"I  don't  know.  I  can't  remember.  I'm  afraid  I 
did  !  "  he  miserably  confessed. 

"  Don't  know  !  can't  remember  !  afraid  ye  did  !  " 
the  ox-compelling  voice  repeated,  yet  in  tones  no 
laziest  ox,  nor  indeed  any  creature  on  that  well 
ordered  farm,  except  the  "  beatermost  dunderpate  in 
all  creation,"  had  ever  yet  called  forth. 

Uncle  Gray  withdrew,  storming;  and  Kit,  stoop- 
ing on  the  topmost  stair,  hurriedly  putting  on  his 
shoes,  could  trace  him  all  the  way  through  sitting- 
room  and  kitchen,  in  the  direction  of  the  stable,  by 
the  wrathful  ejaculations  he  let  fall,  dying  away  like 
rattling  thunder  in  the  distance. 

Kit  followed  without  his  hat,  in  the  chill  dawn, 
aware  that  retribution  awaited  him,  but  hoping  that 
no  serious  harm  had  come  of  his  neglect.  That  hope 
was  quickly  dispelled,  however,  as  he  approached  the 
stable. 


24  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

His  uncle  had  found  the  door  .unlocked,  with  the 
key  in  it.  He  had  entered  in  haste,  and  was  now  rush- 
ing out  again,  his  eyes  glaring  excitedly,  his  hooked 
nose  white  as  a  cheese-paring,  and  his  features  in  a 
snarl  of  terrible  wrinkles. 

"Now  see  what's  come  o'  your  — "  he  began,  but 
choked,  or  hesitated  for  a  word  weighty  enough  to 
express  his  wrath  and  alarm ;  then  spluttered 
forth,  — 

"  PESKINESS  ! " 

At  the  same  time  he  pointed  at  an  empty  stall. 

The  guilty  Christopher  shambled  along  and  looked 
in.  It  was  the  stall  of  Dandy  Jim,  the  one  service- 
able horse  on  the  place ;  but  the  horse  had  vanished 
in  the  night. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   STOLEN    HORSE. 

"TTAS  anything  happened  ? "  said  Aunt  Gray, 
•*"*•  hooking  her  dress  as  she  came  out  of  the 
house,  attracted  by  the  little  drama  at  the  stable- 
door.  She  was  a  stoutish  woman,  with  a  large, 
round,  kindly  face,  and  a  head  as  polished  as  a  melon, 
before  she  had  got  on  her  false  hair  for  the  day. 

Instead  of  answering  her,  Uncle  Gray  turned  with 
fresh  indignation  on  Kit. 

"  What  ever  possessed  ye  to  come  out  and  unlock 
the  barn  after  I  had  once  locked  it  up  for  the 
night  ? " 

Kit  explained  that  it  was  to  pick  up  and  put  away 
the  whip. 

"That  was  mighty  important !"  exclaimed  Uncle 
Gray.  "Wouldn't  the  whip  stay  where  it  was  till 
mornin',  and  no  gre't  harm  done  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Kit.  "  But  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  take  care  of  things  soon  as  ever  I 
could  think  to;  and  I  thought  of  that  just  as  I  was 
going  to  bed.  I  meant  it  for  the  best !  "  added  the 
conscience-smitten  boy. 

2S 


26  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  Meant  it  for  the  best !  And  so  you  saved  the 
whip,  and  let  the  horse  be  stole  !  I  never  ! "  And 
with  a  gesture  of  impatience  Uncle  Gray  turned 
back  into  the  barn. 

"  What !  "  ejaculated  Aunt  Gray,  who  had  finished 
hooking  her  dress  by  this  time,  —  a  somewhat  formid- 
able operation,  —  "  the  hoss  haint  been  stole,  has  he  ? " 

"  I  hope  not ;  I  don't  see  how  he  can  have  been," 
said  Kit.  "  To  think  the  thief  should  come  just  the 
very  night  when  .the  door  was  left  unlocked,  —  I 
can't  believe  it !" 

"  You  don't  know  how  many  times  thieves  may 
have  come  and  found  the  door  locked,"  said  Aunt 
Gray.  "  Though  it  don't  seem  to  me  Dandy  can  be 
re'ly  stole  !  Pa  ! "  —  she  called  her  husband  pa  — 
"  be  ye  sure  ? " 

"  Sure's  I  want  to  be,  and  a  good  deal  more  so," 
he  replied.  "The  mare  is  there,  but  the  hoss  is 
gone,  stole  or  not ;  and  the  saddle  and  best  bridle's 
gone  with  him.  A  hundr'd  and  eighty  dollars  right 
out  of  my  pocket,  if  it's  a  penny !  " 

He  turned  once  more  on  Kit.  "  The  idee  of  your 
comin'  out  here  at  nine  o'clock,  unlockin'  the  stable, 
and  leavin'  the  key  in  the  door,  as  if  to  invite  tramps 
and  vagabonds  to  walk  in  and  help  themselves  !  I've 
no  patience  with  such  stupidity ! " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  2"] 

"  Neither  have  I ! "  said  Kit,  with  the  candor  of 
abject  remorse.  "But  I  don't  know  how  I  am  to 
cure  myself  of  it,  unless  I  go  and  jump  into  the 
pond  with  a  ploughshare  hitched  to  my  neck.  I  did 
mean  to  do  better  !  " 

Seeing  his  tears  begin  to  fall,  Aunt  Gray,  who 
could  not  have  compressed  a  very  shrivelled  heart 
under  the  gown  she  had  been  struggling  to  hook, 
said,  soothingly,  — 

"  Your  comin'  out  here  for  the  whip  shows  you 
did  mean  to,  though  to  patch  a  little  hole  you  sp'ilt 
cloth  that  would  have  made  a  garment.  You're  like 
the  man  that  went  to  stop  a  little  leak  o'  cider,  and 
busted  the  hoops  off  his  barrel.  But  there's  no  use 
cryin'  for  spilt  milk,  nor  scoldin'  about  it,  neither. 
If  the  hoss  is  stole,  the  next  thing  to  be  done  is 
to  try  to  find  him.  Here's  Abram  ;  mabby  he 
knows  something  that  '11  clear  up  the  mystery." 

Abram  was  the  hired  man,  who  lived  in  his  own 
home  a  mile  away,  and  used  to  come  up  to  the 
farm  every  morning.  He  was  as  much  surprised 
as  anybody  to  learn  that  Dandy  Jim  was  gone,  with 
saddle  and  bridle ;  and  he  had  to  go  and  look  the 
stalls  and  pens  all  over  before  he  would  be  con- 
vinced. Then  he  suddenly  exclaimed, — 

"By  mighty!" 


28  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  Uncle  Gray  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Them  hoss-tracks  I  see,  comin'  up  from  the  vil- 
lage !  This  accounts  for  'em  ! " 

"  Did  you  see  hoss-tracks  ? "  Aunt  Gray  inquired  ; 
while  Uncle  Gray  said  frowningly  that  "  hoss- 
tracks  "  were  plenty  enough ;  the  roads  were  full 
of  'em. 

"  But  not  such  tracks  as  I  see  this  mornin'," 
replied  Abram.  "There  was  a  light  rain  some  time 
in  the  night  and  these  tracks  was  made  afterwards, 
as  you  could  see  plain  enough.  I  come  up  the  cow- 
lane,  or  I  might,  like  enough,  have  followed  'em  to 
your  front  gate." 

"  Here  they  are !  "  cried  Kit,  who  was  already 
searching  the  driveway  which  led  from  the  barn, 
past  the  house,  to  the  street.  "  Fresh  tracks  after 
the  rain  !  There  they  go  !  there !  there  !  " 

He  was  off  like  a  hound  on  a  scent,  following  the 
tracks  to  the  street.  Uncle  Gray  went  more  slowly, 
scrutinizing  them  with  a  sight  not  so  keen,  and  mut- 
tering, discouragingly,  — 

"  I  guess  they're  Dandy's  tracks,  safe  enough  ; 
but  what's  the  use  of  any  more  evidence  't  I've 
lost  a  hoss  ?  I  was  sure  on  't  before." 

"  We  can  track  him  !  "  cried  Kit,  earnestly. 

"  A  sight  of  good  that  '11  do ! "  said  Uncle  Gray. 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  29 

"  You  may  track  him  a  mile  or  so ;  but  what'll  ye 
do,  f'r  instance,  when  ye  find  the  roads  full  of  all 
sorts  of  tracks,  as  they  will  be  long  'fore  you  come 
in  sight  of  the  thief  ? " 

"  Here  are  a  man's  tracks,  too ! "  exclaimed  Kit. 
"  He  led  Dandy  past  the  gate ;  and  here's  where  he 
mounted.  I'm  going  to  see  which  way  he  has  gone, 
before  it's  too  late.  I  wish  the  mare  was  fit  to 
ride ! " 

"  I  wouldn't  trust  her  with  ye,"  was  Uncle  Gray's 
grim  response  ;  "  such  a  blunderhead  as  you  be  !  " 

"  But  I  am  going,  anyway,"  Kit  declared. 

"  Nobody'll  hinder  ye,"  growled  Uncle  Gray. 
'  Go,  if  ye  wan'  tu  ;  and  I  guess,  on  the  hull,  ye 
better  not  come  back  'ithout  the  hoss." 

"  Well !  I  won't !  "  said  Kit,  desperately. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Christopher ! "  interposed  Aunt 
Gray.  "  Don't  talk  that  way,  pa !  you  don't  mean 
it." 

"Yes,  I  du!  I'm  tired  of  the  boy's  blunderin', 
blunderin' !  I  don't  want  to  see  him  agin  'thout 
he  brings  back  Dandy,  which,  I  guess,  he'll  du 
about  next  day  after  never." 

"  Christopher ! "  Aunt  Gray  called  again,  raising 
her  voice  to  be  heard  in  the  distance  ;  "  wait  for  a 
mouthful  of  breakfast." 


3O  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  I  don't  want  any  breakfast,"  Kit  answered,  as 
he  ran. 

"  Come  back  for  your  hat ! "  screamed  Aunt 
Gray. 

Kit  did  not  hear ;  nor  had  he  the  least  idea  that 
he  had  started  off  on  his  hopeless  chase,  after  a  tol- 
erably well  mounted  rogue,  without  a  hat  to  his  un- 
combed head. 

He  scanned  the  tracks  carefully  as  he  went,  not- 
ing the  difference  between  those  of  the  hind  feet, 
which  were  shod,  and  those  of  the  fore  feet,  which 
were  not,  in  places  where  fore  foot  and  hind  foot 
had  left  separate  prints.  He  also  observed  that 
Dandy  had  evidently  started  off  on  a  walk,  then 
struck  into  a  trot,  and,  finally,  been  urged  to  a 
gallop,  when  he  had  got  well  out  of  hearing  from 
the  house ;  his  strides  growing  longer,  and  his  feet 
throwing  up  the  dirt  of  the  roadbed  more  plentifully, 
as  his  speed  increased. 

The  Widow  Downimede  had  barely  risen  that 
morning,  and  her  door  was  still  fastened,  when  it 
was  shaken  and  pounded  violently,  and  she  heard 
a  voice  calling,  "  Hallo !  mother !  mother ! " 

"  It  is  Christopher !  "  she  exclaimed,  in  very  great 
astonishment,  which  was  not  lessened,  be  sure,  when 
she  hastened  to  open  the  door,  and  saw  him  standing 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  31 

there,  hatless,  with  wild  eyes  and  hair,  flushed  with 
running  and  out  of  breath. 

"  Why,  my  child  ! "  she  cried,  "  what  is  the  mat- 
ter ?  " 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  he  said.  "  Uncle's  horse 
has  been  stolen.  The  thief  has  ridden  him"  —  he 
gasped  for  breath — "right  by  the  house  here.  I 
am  on  his  track." 

"  My  dear  boy ! "  replied  the  widow,  whose  first 
concern  was  not  for  the  loss  of  the  horse,  "  you  will 
kill  yourself  with  running !  " 

"Never  fear!"  said  Kit.  "I  am  all  right  — 
only  —  '  panting  again  —  "I  started  off  without 
my  breakfast.  Give  me  a  doughnut  or  two  to 
put  in  my  pocket  —  to  eat  —  when  I  have  a 
chance." 

On  his  way  to  the  village  he  had  had  time  to 
reflect  that  he  very  likely  had  an  all  day's  chase 
before  him,  and  that  his  strength  would  not  hold 
out  without  food.  He  had  also  discovered  the 
absence  of  his  hat  before  he  was  reminded  of  it 
by  his  mother. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  putting  up  his  hand  to  his  tossed 
hair,  "that's  one  thing  I  stopped  for —  my  base  ball 
cap.  Where  is  it  ? "  For,  of  course,  so  heedless 
a  lad  as  Kit  was  careless  of  any  of  his  things 


32  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

at  home,  and  always  had  to  ask  his  mother  for 
them. 

"  I'll  hunt  it  up,"  she  replied.  "  Meanwhile  you 
must  eat  something  —  a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk. 
Mr.  Pierce  has  just  left  our  pint,  and  you  can  have 
it  all." 

The  can  was  on  the  doorstep.  Kit  took  it  up  and 
handed  it  to  her,  declaring  at  the  same  time  that  he 
could  not  stop  to  eat  nor  even  wait  for  his  base  baV, 
cap  unless  she  could  put  her  hand  on  it  at  once. 

"  For  I  must  find  that  horse,"  he  said,  "  if  such  a 
thing  is  possible.  It  was  my  fault  that  he  was 
stolen,  and  I  am  not  to  go  back  to  Uncle  Gray's 
without  him." 

"  Why  !  how  did  it  happen  ? "  asked  the  aston- 
ished widow. 

"I  left  the  stable-door  unlocked.  Uncle  Gray 
was  mad  as  fury,  and  I  don't  blame  him.  I  some- 
times think  I'm  half  a  fool ! "  And  poor  Kit  burst 
into  tears  of  self-hatred  and  grief. 

The  widow  tried  to  soothe  him,  as  she  got  him 
into  the  house  and  poured  the  milk  into  a  bowl  on 
the  table  before  him  ;  yet  she  could  not  help  speak- 
ing reproachfully  of  his  fault. 

"  I  was  afraid  it  would  bring  you  into  trouble,  and 
I  warned  you,  —  don't  you  remember  I  warned  you, 


HIS    ONE   FAUIT.  33 

Christopher  ?  And  now  if  your  uncle  has  cast  you 
off  on  account  of  it,  I  don't  know  what  we  are  going 
to  do.  I'm  so  sorry,  so  sorry !  for  I  don't  see  the 
least  chance  of  your  finding  the  horse,  unless  you 
have  a  still  faster  one  to  ride." 

"  Well,  I  haven't  got  that,  and  I  can't  afford  to 
hire  one,"  said  Kit,  gulping  down  the  milk,  for  he 
found  that  he  was  thirsty,  if  not  hungry.  "  I'll  take 
my  chances,  and  if  I  don't  have  a  horse  to  ridefc 
why,  then,  I  sha'n't  be  bothered  with  one.  The 
thief  is  not  many  hours  ahead  of  me,  for  he  started 
after  it  stopped  raining." 

"It  rained  till  two  o'clock  and  after,"  said  the 
widow,  stuffing  his  pockets  with  doubled  slices  of 
buttered  bread.  "  I  was  awake ;  and  ,1  remember 
now,  I  heard  a  horse  clattering  fast  along  the  street 
about  then.  I  thought  of  your  father's  sudden  ill- 
ness, and  wondered  who  was  riding  fast  for  the  doc- 
tor. I  think  of  your  father  so  much,  night  and  day, 
Christopher ! " 

Her  mind  was  running  off  upon  her  great  sorrow  ; 
but  Kit  could  not  stop  to  hear.  He  seized  the  cap 
which,  with  a  housekeeper's  instinct,  she  had  found 
and  handed  him  ;  clapped  it  on  his  frizzled  pate, 
took  another  swallow  of  milk  and  a  bite  of  bread, 
allowing  her  at  the  same  time  to  drop  some  small 


34  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

change  into  his  pocket,  —  all  she  had ;  then  rushed 
out  of  the  house. 

The  tracks  were  still  traceable,  and  they  led 
straight  through  the  village ;  growing  more  and 
more  indistinct  beyond,  however,  as  they  mingled 
with  other  tracks  made  since  the  rain. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

FOLLOWING    THE    TRACKS. 

sun  was  but  just  beginning  to  shine  over 
-*-  the  wooded  hills  and  hazy  pasture-lands ;  for  it 
was  now  September,  the  month  of  rapidly  shorten- 
ing days. 

Kit  found  a  few  people  astir  in  the  village,  and 
met  two  or  three  teams  on  the  road ;  but  nobody 
had  seen  Dandy  Jim  and  his  rider.  Then  a  milk- 
man overtook  him,  and  gave  him  a  ride  of  a  mile, 
but  had  to  turn  off  on  a  by-road,  while  Kit  followed 
the  tracks.  These  were  fast  becoming  obliterated ; 
but  by  searching  carefully  at  forks  and  crossings, 
he  could  always  see  enough  of  them  to  decide  which 
route  the  rogue  had  taken. 

He  got  another  ride,  in  a  farmer's  wagon  ;  and 
afterward  hung  on  behind  a  carriage  that  was  going 
his  way ;  thus  getting  over  much  ground  about  as 
fast,  he  thought,  as  if  he  had  a  horse  of  his  own. 
The  morning  was  pleasant,  the  air  cool  and  sweet 
after  the  shower,  the  roadsides  were  ornamented 
with  golden-rods  and  asters,  while  here  and  there  a 

35 


36  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

sapling  or  sumach  by  the  fences,  or  a  trailing  wood- 
Dine  on  the  rough  stone  walls,  touched  the  land- 
scape with  the  first  bright  hues  of  autumn.  But  for 
the  great  anxiety  attending  it,  Kit  would  have  enjoyed 
his  journey,  on  such  a  day,  amid  those  smiling  farms. 

The  road  he  was  on  was  a  great  thoroughfare 
leading  to  Boston,  forty  miles  away ;  and  he  was 
not  long  in  making  up  his  mind  that  the  rogue  had 
gone  thither  to  dispose  of  the  horse.  It  was  a  dis- 
couraging prospect  for  a  boy  of  sixteen,  with  hardly 
a  dollar  in  his  pocket,  and  with  no  friends  whose 
influence  he  could  enlist  in  his  behalf,  on  the  route 
or  in  the  city  itself.  But  it  would  be  something,  at 
least,  to  know  what  course  Dandy's  rider  had  taken. 

About  four  miles  from  home  he  came  to  a  fork  in 
the  hi'ghway,  and  dropped  off  from  behind  his 
carriage  (not  without  regret)  to  trace  the  tracks. 
They  had  quite  disappeared,  either  obliterated  by 
the  increasing  travel,  or,  as  Kit  thought  more  prob- 
able, because  the  thief  had  turned  off  on  the  turf 
to  baffle  pursuit. 

He  was  carefully  looking  for  them  in  the  sand 
and  in  the  still  wet  grass,  when  a  farm  boy  came 
along,  of  whom  he  made  the  usual  inquiries. 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  a  man  on  a  dark- 
brown  horse,  almost  black,  with  a  braided  foretop  ? " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  37 

"The  man  almost  black,  with  a  braided  foretop?" 
said  the  young  fellow,  with  a  grin. 

"No;  the  horse.  I  can't  describe  the  man," 
replied  Kit,  irritated  by  such  untimely  levity. 

"  I  didn't  know  but  you  meant  the  man,"  said  the 
fellow;  "and  I  didn't  want  to  answer  your  question 
without  I  could  do  it  straight  and  square.  An  al- 
most black  hoss,  with  a  braided  foretop,  and  a 
rider  ? " 

"  Yes ;  with  little  roundish  mottles  of  a  lighter 
brown,  about  as  big  as  your  thumb,  along  on  the 
sides  of  his  belly." 

"  The  rider  ?  " 

"  No  ;  the  horse,"  said  Kit,  indignantly ;  though 
he  had  wit  enough  of  his  own  to  laugh  at  the 
fellow's  drollery  afterward. 

"Was  he  trottin'  or  canterin'?     I  mean  the  hoss,"- 
the  wag  added,  as  if  anxious  to  avoid  further  misun- 
derstanding. 

Kit  explained  that  Dandy  was  a  trotter,  being 
more  accustomed  to  the  harness  than  the  saddle, 
but  that  he  could  gallop  when  urged. 

"  But,  trotting  or  galloping,"  he  demanded,  "  have 
you  seen  any  horse  at  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"  A  dark  brown  one  ?  " 


38  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  Rather  dark ;  though  I  didn't  notice  the  braided 
foretop  and  the  mottles." 

"With  a  rider?"  cried  Kit,  eagerly. 

"  No,  he  hadn't  no  rider ;  he  was  one  of  a  pair 
ahead  of  a  two-hoss  wagon." 

Kit  turned  again  to  look  for  the  tracks,  angrily 
resolved  to  waste  no  more  words  on  so  unpromising 
a  subject. 

"  What  have  ye  lost  ? "  said  the  fellow.  "  Can  I 
do  anything  for  ye  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  answer  my  questions  seriously, 
if  you  answer  them  at  all.  I  have  lost  a  horse  ;  and 
I  should  think  you  might  do  as  you  would  like  to 
have  me  do  by  you,  if  you  were  in  my  place." 

"  Sho  !  Why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ?  I  didn't 
know  you'd  lost  a  hoss  !  " 

"  You  might  have  known ;  I  was  inquiring  for 
him." 

"  Have  you  lost  a  rider,  too  ?  You  was  inquirin' 
for  a  rider  with  the  hoss." 

Kit  changed  the  topic  abruptly. 

"  Which  of  these  two  roads  goes  to  Boston  ? " 

"  Don't  neither  on  'em  go  to  Boston  ;  they  stay 
right  where  they  be." 

"That's  a  pretty  old  joke,"  said  Kit  ;  "and  unless 
you  can  get  off  a  fresh  one,  you'd  better  not  try  to 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  39 

joke  at  all.  The  thief  is  probably  on  his  way  to 
Boston,  and  I  want  to  know  which  road  to  take  to 
find  him." 

"  Take  either  on  'em,  and  you'll  most  likely  find 
he  has  took  t'  other,  for  they  are  both  roads  to 
Boston,"  said  the  rural  joker. 

He  was  speaking  truth  about  the  general  direc- 
tion of  the  roads,  however ;  and  he  afterward  atoned 
for  his  impertinence  by  joining  in  the  search  for 
Dandy's  tracks. 

"  Here  ;  what's  this  ? "  he  cried.  Kit  hastened 
to  see  ;  and,  sure  enough,  cutting  though  the  thin 
turf  of  the  roadside  into  the  brown  sandy  loam  be- 
neath, the  prints  of  Dandy's  hoofs  re-appeared,  or 
some  extremely  like  them. 

"  Thank  you  ever  so  much,"  exclaimed  Kit,  heart* 
ily  forgiving  the  fellow's  waggery.  "This  is  the 
way  he  has  gone !  "  And  he  was  off  again. 

He  next  made  inquiries  and  begged  a  ride  of  a 
man  driving  in  a  light  carryall  ;  and  he  was  encour- 
aged to  find  everybody  so  ready  to  help  him,  when 
his  story  was  told,  even  the  roadside  wag  having 
proved  hardly  an  exception. 

The  man  in  the  carryall  agreed  with  him  that  the 
rogue  had  probably  gone  to  Boston  with  the  horse ; 
nevertheless,  he  stopped  to  allow  Kit  to  look  for 


4O  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

tracks  at  the  crossings  they  passed.  At  one  of 
these  a  drove  of  cattle  had  come  into  the  high- 
way, as  if  they  had  been  invented  on  purpose,  Kit 
said,  to  follow  and  cover  up  all  traces  of  the  stolen 
horse. 

A  mile  or  two  farther  on,  he  descried  a  cloud  of 
dust  in  the  distance,  and  exclaimed:  "There's  the 
drove  of  cattle!"  The  man  touched  his  horse,  and 
soon  came  up  with  a  drover  urging  on  the  laggards, 
to  whom  Kit  put  his  usual  question. 

"Yes;  I've  seen  sich  a  hoss  —  whay !  shoo!" 
said  the  drover,  cracking  his  whip  at  a  yearling  by 
the  fence.  "Just  after  daylight  this  —  go  'long 
there!  will  ye?"  —  crack,  crack!  —  "this  mornin'." 
Kit's  heart  gave  a  leap  of  expectation,  and  he 
described  more  particularly  Dandy's  marks. 

"  It  was  skurcely  light  enough  for  me  —  whay 
there!  ho!  ho!  —  for  me  to  notice  the  mottles  on 
his  sides ;  but  I  remember  the  —  git  along,  you 
brute!  —  the  braided  foretop." 

"  Where  was  he  ? " 

"  Six  or  eight  miles  back  here  —  ho  !  ho  !  git ! " 

"  Before  you  struck  this  road  ?  " 

"  Long  afore.  We  had  jest  got  the  drove  started. 
Whoop !  Jerusalem  !  boys,  look  out  for  the  gap  in 
that  fence ! " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  41 

"  What  sort  of  a  chap  was  riding  him  ? "  Kit 
asked,  in  a  fever  of  excitement. 

"A  youngish  chap,  not  much  more'n  twenty,  I 
should  jedge  —  hillo  !  hillo  !  A  fair-spoken  feller; 
nothin'  partic'larly  noticeable  about  him.  He 
wanted  to  sell  me  the  hoss,  and  turned  and  rod<* 
with  me  —  hish !  'sh  !  —  for  half  a  mile  or  so. 
'Twa'n't  so  dusty  then  as  'tis  now.  Wa'n't  much 
of  a  shower  down  this  way."  Crack,  crack !  went 
the  whip. 

"  How  was  he  dressed  ? " 

"  Re'ly,  I  can't  tell :  I  didn't  give  much  'tention 
to  him  ;  but  I  kin"  o'  looked  the  hoss  over,  —  whish  ! 
ho  !  —  he  seemed  sich  a  fairish  sort  of  hoss,  and  he 
offered  him  dog-cheap." 

"How  cheap  !  "  cried  Kit. 

"  He  offered  him  for  fifty  dollars." 

"  Dandy  Jim  for  fifty  dollars  !  " 

"  I've  got  the  chink  right  here  in  my  pocket," 
said  the  drover,  pausing  to  wipe  away  the  dust  and 
sweat  under  his  black  felt  hat.  "But  I  was  jealous 
everything  wa'n't  jest  ship-shape ;  feller  stumpin' 
me  for  a  trade  that  time  in  the  mornin',  an'  offerin' 
a  beast  for  less  'n  half  he's  worth.  Shouldn't 
wonder  if  you  could  overhaul  him,  for  he'll  be 
offerin'  his  hoss  along  on  the  by-roads." 


42  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

Kit  had  thought  it  a  great  good  fortune  to  get  a 
ride  of  two  or  three  miles  with  the  man  in  the 
carryall  ;  and  indeed  it  was,  for  it  had  enabled  him 
to  obtain  this  positive  information  from  the  drover ; 
but  now  he  had  to  turn  back  on  his  course,  which 
he  hurriedly  prepared  to  do,  having  asked  a  few 
more  questions,  and  thanked  both  men  for  their 
assistance. 

"You're  welcome,  fur's  I'm  concerned,"  said  the 
drover,  wielding  his  whip,  and  shouting  again,  "  Ho  ! 
hillo  !  whish  !  Jerusalem  !  git  along  there  !  "  as  he 
followed  the  cattle  and  the  cloud  of  dust. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN   HOT    PURSUIT. 

"T'D  like  no  better  fun  than  to  drive  with  you,  and 

•^  help  hunt  up  the  horse-thief,  if  I  had  time," 
said  the  man  in  the  carryall.  "  You've  only  to 
follow  back  the  cattle  tracks  to  the  yard  they  left 
at  daybreak,  and  it  won't  be  long  before  you  hear  of 
the  rogue  again.  Good-by  !  and  luck  to  you  !  " 

With  hopes  stronger  than  ever,  if  not  of  over- 
hauling the  thief,  of  finding  at  least  where  he  dis- 
posed of  the  horse,  Kit  set  off  on  a  run  to  return  to 
the  cross-road.  He  had  slackened  his  speed  to  a 
walk  long  before  he  reached  it,  and  he  followed  it 
more  and  more  wearily  until  noon. 

Beyond  the  yard  where  the  cattle  had  been 
penned  for  the  night,  he  thought  he  could  make 
out  Dandy's  hoof-prints  again  ;  but  they  were  baf- 
flingly  uncertain,  and  he  soon  gave  them  up  alto- 
gether. Nor  could  he  by  inquiring  hear  anything 
of  him  or  his  rider. 

"  I  suppose  people  along  here  were  hardly  stirring 
when  he  passed,"  thought  he  as  he  kept  on,  still 

43 


44  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

without  losing  hope.  "  Or  maybe  he  wanted  to  get 
farther  away  before  offering  to  sell  Dandy  to  any- 
body but  a  passing  drover." 

He  turned  off  at  forks  and  crossings,  to  look  for 
tracks  and  make  inquiries,  but  always  came  back  to 
the  road  he  was  following,  after  losing  time  and 
strength  and  patience  in  these  useless  excursions. 
He  was  growing  quite  disheartened  and  bewildered, 
when  he  came  to  some  stone-layers  eating  their 
dinner  beside  an  unfinished  bank  wall. 

"We  have  been  at  work  here  since  half-past  six 
this  morning,"  said  one  of  them,  "and  we  have  seen 
no  man  on  horseback." 

Kit  sat  down  on  a  stone,  with  a  weary  sigh. 

"  What  could  have  become  of  him  ? "  he  said, 
thinking  aloud  rather  than  addressing  the  men.  "  It 
must  have  been  near  six  when  he  left  the  drover ; 
and  I  don't  believe  Dandy  could  have  travelled  so  far 
as  here  in  half  an  hour.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  ! " 

He  had  eaten  his  bread  and  butter  while  riding 
with  the  man  in  the  carryall :  and  now  he  could  not 
help  looking  wistfully  at  the  boiled  eggs  the  men 
cracked  on  the  edges  of  their  dinner-pails.  He  was 
glad,  however,  they  did  not  offer  him  what  he  would 
have  been  ashamed  to  accept,  and  might  not  have 
had  the  resolution  to  refuse. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  45 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  think,"  said  one,  having 
drained  a  small  can  and  wiped  his  milky  lips  on  his 
bare  arm.  "  I  think  I  have  seen  your  man." 

"  When  ?  Where  ?  "  Kit  asked  with  quickly  reviv- 
ing interest. 

"  You  know,  boys,  when  I  went  for  the  drill. 
Coming  through  Hillard's  grove,  I  was  near  stum- 
bling over  a  man  stretched  out  fast  asleep  on  the 
ground,  while  a  hoss  was  grazing  in  a  grassy  hollow. 
I  think  that  was  your  man,  and  I  think  that  was 
your  hoss." 

Kit  thought  so,  too,  so  surely  that  he  forgot  all 
about  his  hunger  and  weariness  and  waning  hopes, 
and  was  on  his  feet  again  in  an  instant,  plying  the 
stone-layer  with  questions. 

"  He  sat  up,  and  put  on  his  hat,  which  had  fallen 
off  where  he  slept,  and  looked  at  me  saucy-like ; 
but,  as  I  said  nothing  to  him,  he  said  nothing  to 
me.  Yes,  it  was  a  darkish  hoss,  with  a  saddle,  and 
his  bridle  was  slipped  back  on  his  neck,  with  the 
reins  made  fast  to  a  loose  branch  on  the  ground,  to 
keep  him  from  walking  away.  It  was  about  three 
hours  ago,  and  that  is  the  grove  in  sight  yonder  ; 
you've  just  come  past  it." 

The  speaker  had  not  noticed  Dandy's  distinguish- 
ing marks  ;  but  there  could  not  be  much  doubt  that 


46  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

the  horse  he  had  seen  was  Dandy  himself.  He  told 
Kit  how  to  find  an  overgrown  wagon-track  leading 
into  the  woods,  and  the  grassy  hollow  where  he  had 
seen  the  grazing  animal  and  the  sleeping  man. 

The  boy  had  to  go  back  on  his  course  again,  but 
not  far ;  and  he  was  soon  following  the  path  among 
the  undergrowth.  Fresh  hoof-prints  in  soft  places 
amidst  the  roots  and  dead  leaves  corroborated  the 
laborer's  story  ;  they  led  to  the  grassy  hollow  where 
a  spot  which  some  beast  had  lately  grazed  was 
plainly  to  be  seen,  near  another  that  showed  an  im- 
pression, like  that  of  a  human  form,  on  the  bank. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  man  that  lay  here  ;  that 
shows,"  said  Kit,  turning  over  a  tobacco  quid  with 
his  foot. 

Of  course,  neither  man  nor  horse  was  there  then  ; 
but  he  was  able  to  follow  the  prints  along  a  winding 
cart-track,  through  beautiful  open,  sun-spotted  woods, 
until  he  came  to  a  pair  of  posts  with  three  bars,  the 
two  upper  ones  of  which  were  let  down. 

"To  take  Dandy  through,"  said  Kit  to  himself. 
"  Here  are  his  tracks  still ! "  and  he  followed  them 
into  a  wild,  rocky,  and  hilly  road  beyond. 

Not  far  along  were  some  men  gathering  squashes 
in  a  field,  and  Kit  shouted  his  question  at  them  across 
a  brier-overgrown  stone  wall- 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  47 

"Yes,  we've  seen  a  man  with  just  such  a  horse," 
one  shouted  back  from  a  wagon,  in  which  he  stood 
catching  the  squashes  another  man  and  a  boy  tossed 
up  at  him. 

In  spite  of  the  briers,  Kit  was  over  the  wall  in  a 
moment,  and  the  squash-gatherers  stopped  their  work 
to  hear  his  eager  questions. 

"No,"  said  the  man  in  the  wagon,  "  I  didn't  notice 
the  braided  foretop  nor  the  spots  you  describe  along- 
side the  belly.  The  fellow  wanted  to  sell  or  trade 
his  horse ;  but  as  I  didn't  want  either  to  buy  or 
swap,  I  didn't  take  the  trouble  to  go  and  look 
at  his  beast.  I  guess  you'll  hear  of  him  further  up 
the  road." 

All  the  boy's  hope  and  strength  seemed  to  come 
back  with  the  joy  of  this  good  news.  How  glad  he 
now  was  that  he  had  not  given  over  the  pursuit,  as 
more  than  once,  in  his  discouragement  and  fatigue,  he 
had  been  tempted  to  do !  And  how  fortunate  that 
he  had  got  so  early  a  start,  after  the  theft  was  dis- 
covered ! 

"  Perhaps  Uncle  Gray  will  take  back  some  of  his 
hard  words,"  he  said,  anticipating  the  triumph  of 
riding  Dandy  home,  or  of  carrying  a  certain  clew  to 
his  whereabouts.  "And  how  pleased  mother  will 
be!" 


48  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

He  heard  of  the  horse  at  two  or  three  places,  and 
at  last  got  a  ride  with  a  young  farmer,  who  gave  him 
a  startling  piece  of  information. 

"  I've  seen  your  horse-thief,  certain  as  the  world  ! 
He  wanted  to  sell  me  the  animal  for  a  hundred  dol- 
lars, and  I  think  I  might  have  bought  him,  but  I 
don't  like  to  take  a  horse  on  my  hands  I  don't 
know,  for  fear  there  may  be  something  wrong  about 
him." 

Kit  described  Dandy's  marks. 

"  Yes,  by  George  ! "  said  the  farmer.  "  I  looked 
at  his  feet,  and  remember  he  had  no  shoes  before. 
His  foretop  wasn't  braided,  but  it  was  crinkled,  as  if 
it  had  been  braided  and  the  braids  lately  taken  out. 
A  cunning  thief  would  be  apt  to  do  that." 

He  also  remembered  the  mottles  on  the  sides. 
Kit  asked  excitedly  when  and  where  this  was. 

"  A  little  before  noon.  The  fellow  stopped  to  get 
dinner  and  bait  his  horse  at  my  father-in-law's,  the 
next  house  to  mine.  It's  just  possible  he's  there  now. 
I've  been  down  the  road  a  little  piece  since  dinner, 
and  am  just  driving  home." 

He  whipped  up  his  horse ;  while  Kit,  with  impa- 
tient expectation,  strained  his  eyes  gazing  ahead  at 
the  father-in-law's  house  in  the  distance.  The  young 
farmer  drove  rapidly  by  his  own  door,  and  turned  up 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  49 

at  the  next  front  yard.  The  father-in-law  himself 
came  out  leisurely  to  meet  him. 

"Where's  that  fellow  who  took  dinner  here,  and 
had  the  horse  to  sell  ?  "  cried  the  young  farmer.  To 
which  the  old  farmer  responded,  with  deliberation 
strangely  in  contrast  with  Kit's  breathless  excite- 
ment :  — 

"  That  chap  ?  he's  been  gone  an  hour.  He  hung 
round,  trying  to  get  me  to  make  him  an  offer,  till  I 
fairly  had  to  send  him  away." 

"  It's  too  bad  !  "  said  the  young  man.  "  The  horse 
was  stolen,  and  he  belongs  to  this  boy's  uncle. 
Where  did  he  go  ? " 

The  old  farmer  looked  at  Kit's  changing  counte- 
nance, and  replied :  — 

"  I  said  to  him,  '  The  best  place  to  sell  your  horse 
is  over  at  Peaceville,  at  the  cattle-show.'  '  Is  there  a 
cattle-show  at  Peaceville  ? '  said  he.  '  Yes,'  I  said  ; 
'it  opens  to-day,  and  holds  to-day  and  to-morrow.' 
'  That's  an  idea,'  said  he  ;  '  how  far  is  it  ? '  I  told 
him  about  eight  miles  ;  then  he  wanted  to  know  the 
best  way  to  get  there,  and  started  off.  I've  no  doubt 
but  he  will  go  straight  to  the  cattle-show  with  his 
stolen  horse,  if  he  don't  sell  him  on  the  way." 

"  What  did  he  say  for  himself  ?  What  sort  of  a 
looking  man  was  he  ? "  Kit  asked. 


5O  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  He  said  he  had  been  to  collect  a  bad  debt,  and 
had  been  obliged  to  take  a  horse  he  didn't  want,  and 
that  was  why  he  was  willing  to  dispose  of  him 
at  any  price.  But  I  didn't  take  much  stock  in  him, 
though  he  was  a  rather  good-looking,  pleasant  fellow. 
Sallow-complected,  no  beard,  about  average  height, 
wore  a  common-looking  suit  of  some  sort  of  dark 
checked  goods,  and  a  narrow-brimmed,  low-crowned 
straw  hat." 

All  this  corresponded  well  with  what  Kit  had  heard 
before,  and  enabled  him  to  form  in  his  mind  so  distinct 
an  image  of  the  fugitive  that  he  felt  almost  sure  he 
would  recognize  him  when  he  saw  him,  even  if  he 
was  not  riding  Dandy. 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  has  really  gone  to  the  cattle- 
show?"  he  asked,  turning  to  the  younger  farmer. 
"  Or  might  he  not  have  made  a  pretence  of  going,  to 
throw  pursuers  off  his  track  ?  " 

"  Either  is  likely  enough  ;  but  I  think  it  most  prob- 
able he  will  try  to  sell  the  horse  at  the  fair.  That 
being  in  another  county,  and  so  far  away,  he  wont 
expect  to  meet  any  of  your  neighbors  there  who 
know  the  animal.  Your  best  course,"  the  young 
man  added,  "  will  be  to  take  the  road  to  Peaceville, 
and  inquire  for  him  as  you  go  along." 

"  I  think  so  myself.     And  I  must  lose  no  time  ! " 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  5 1 

Adding  a  word  of  hearty  thanks,  Kit  was  stepping 
down  from  the  wagon,  when  the  young  man  stopped 
him. 

"  Sit  still  ;  I'll  drive  you  over  to  the  main  road  you 
are  to  strike  ;  I  only  wish  I  could  go  all  the  way  !  " 

"  I  wish  you  could  !  "  exclaimed  the  grateful  boy. 
"  But  I  shall  be  glad  of  even  a  little  lift." 

He  was  beginning  to  feel  more  footsore  and  leg- 
weary  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life,  and  it  was 
with  pain  and  repugnance  that  he  got  down  upon 
the  roadside  where  the  friendly  young  farmer  was 
obliged  to  leave  him.  His  stomach  was  empty  and 
faint,  and  there  was  a  spot  in  the  small  of  his  back 
which  seemed  to  be  getting  tired  of  its  share  in  the 
day's  business,  and  threatening  to  strike  work  alto- 
gether. 

He  did  not  think  he  could  afford  a  minute's  time 
to  rest,  or  even  to  get  a  bite  at  a  farm-house,  so 
much  depended  on  the  expedition  with  which  he 
followed  the  thief.  He  had  quenched  his  thirst  at 
wayside  wells  and  springs,  and  helped  himself  to 
apples  in  orchards  he  passed  ;  and  with  such  scanty 
refreshment,  he  trudged  wearily  on. 

The  sun  was  near  setting  when,  dusty  and  hag- 
gard and  spent,  he  came  in  sight  of  the  cool 
meadows  and  sluggish,  winding  river  on  the  pleas- 


52  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

ant  outskirts  of  Peaceville.  From  afar  off  he  was 
shown  the  high-towered  fair  building,  in  the  midst 
of  the  grounds  where  the  cattle-show  was  held  ;  and 
at  last  the  colossal  image  of  an  ox-yoke  above  a 
broad,  open  gateway  assured  his  anxiously  beating 
heart  that  he  had  arrived  at  the  entrance. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AT   THE    CATTLE-SHOW. 

"TT  THEN  the  gate-keeper  asked  for  his  ticket,  Kit 
^  *  in  return  inquired  for  Dandy  and  his  rider. 
The  man  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  seen  too  many  horses  to  remember  any 
particular  one,"  he  said.  "  Your  man  may  have  left 
his  horse  outside,  or  he  may  have  taken  him  in ;  I 
can't  tell." 

"  Shall  I  have  to  pay  to  go  in  ? "  Kit  asked,  hav- 
ing learned  that  a  ticket  of  admission  cost  half  a 
dollar.  "  I  haven't  come  to  see  the  fair,  only  to 
hunt  for  a  stolen  horse." 

The  man  took  out  his  watch,  then  looked  Kit  over 
carefully. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "It's  the  tail-end  of  the 
show  for  to-day,  anyway."  And  he  turned  back 
into  the  grounds,  accompanied  by  Kit. 

The  man  appeared  interested  in  something  taking 
place  on  the  other  side  of  a  railing  that  swept  around 
in  a  wide  curve  near  the  entrance,  inclosing,  as  Kit 

53 


54  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

found,  that  indispensable  feature  of  the  agricultural 
fair  ground,  the  trotting-park. 

There  was  a  crowd  of  spectators  farther  along,  on 
the  side  where  he  was,  while  beyond,  far  away  on 
the  broad,  well  trodden  circular  track,  he  saw  half  a 
dozen  or  more  horses  with  light  gigs  coming  swiftly 
around  toward  him.  Each  gig  had  its  occupant 
perched  on  the  little  frame  that  served  as  a  seat, 
ridiculously  close  to  the  tail  of  the  trotter  he  was 
urging.  The  dust  of  the  track  leaped  up  like  flames, 
in  dull  gray  puffs,  under  the  flying  hoofs,  rose  in  a 
cloud  behind,  and  gradually  mingled  with  a  ring  of 
thin,  dingy  haze,  of  like  earthy  origin,  overhanging 
the  entire  race-course. 

Four  or  five  of  the  trotters  fell  behind,  and 
became  scattered  along  the  track,  while  two  passed, 
nearly  abreast,  the  spot  where  Kit  was,  and  shot  by 
the  judges'  stand,  — a  square-roofed  tower  inside  the 
track,  —  amid  a  tumult  of  cheers  from  the  crowd 
without.  Somebody's  horse  had  won  ;  Kit  did  not 
care  whose  ;  he  only  waited  to  see  that  Dandy  Jim 
was  not  on  the  track, — for  which  absurd  idea  he 
laughed  at  himself  well  afterward,  —  then  turned  to 
look  through  the  stables  behind  the  course. 

He  found  only  blooded  animals  there,  and  soon 
satisfied  himself  that  it  was  not  the  place  to  look  for 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  '    55 

Dandy  Jim.  Meanwhile,  some  visitors  who  had 
their  teams  in  the  fair  grounds  were  hitching  them 
up,  and  driving  out.  He  scanned  them  rapidly,  and, 
hastening  across  the  field  amid  a  throng  of  pedestri- 
ans taking  their  departure,  found  a  number  of 
horses,  some  harnessed  to  wagons  and  some  de- 
tached, tied  to  ropes  or  rails  between  the  race-course 
and  the  central  fair  building  or  pavilion. 

With  a  heart  full  of  distressing  anxiety,  he  looked 
at  every  animal,  but  Dandy  Jim  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen.  Was  his  toilsome  journey,  then,  in  vain  ?  Had 
the  thief,  whom  he  had  traced  until  within  a  mile  or 
two  of  the  village,  suddenly  taken  another  turn  and 
eluded  him  ?  Or  had  the  horse  been  actually  brought 
there,  and  sold,  and  taken  away  again,  before  his 
arrival  ?  This  was  the  result  he  had  dreaded  most, 
and  a  final,  sickening  fear  settled  upon  him  that  this 
was  what  had  occurred. 

The  far-spreading  fields  of  the  river-bottom  were 
already  in  shadow,  and  the  sunshine  was  fast  fading 
from  the  wooded  hills  ;  evening  was  closing  in  with 
a  beauty  and  dewy  coolness  which  made  the  move- 
ments of  the  crowds  and  the  dusty  canopy  over  the 
race-track  seem  something  alien  and  strange.  The 
bell  at  the  judges'  stand  was  tinkling  for  starts  and 
recalls,  and  everybody  who  was  not  leaving  the 


56    *  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

grounds  appeared  interested  in  the  next  heat  to  be 
run.  Nobody  noticed  or  cared  for  poor  Kit,  not 
even  a  policeman  to  whom  he  appealed  ;  and  in  all 
these  throngs  he  saw  not  a  face  he  knew. 

There  were  fruit-wagons  and  ginger-beer  carts,  side- 
shows and  refreshment-tents,  farther  along ;  while  a 
distant  sound  of  lowing  and  bleating  told  him  that 
the  cattle-sheds  were  on  the  other  side  of  the  grounds. 
He  determined  to  make  the  tour  of  them,  asking  for 
Dandy  of  every  man  who  would  give  him  a  moment's 
attention.  He  did  not  stop  to  take  a  peep  at  the 
living  mermaid,  whose  life-size,  high-colored  picture 
adorned  the  canvas  over  her  tank ;  nor  to  see  "  the 
finest  museum  of  curiosities  "  ever  opened  to  an  un- 
grateful world,  for  the  low  price  of  ten  cents  ;  nor  to 
try  his  luck  at  swinging  the  ball  around  the  peg,  a 
little  game  by  which  he  was  told  by  the  proprietor 
that  there  was  a  chance  to  win  a  small  fortune. 

But  here  Kit,  looking  for  friendly  faces  to  address 
his  questions  to,  suddenly  stopped. 

"  It  beats  the  deuce  !  "  said  a  young  man,  giving 
the  ball  a  final  spiteful  swing.  "  When  I  swung  it 
just  for  fun,  I  could  knock  down  the  peg  by  the 
return  swing  every  time.  But  as  sure  as  I  put  up 
my  money  I  knock  it  down  the  other  way,  and  lose. 
How  do  you  manage  it,  old  Punkin-eater  ? " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  57 

"  It's  all  luck,"  replied  the  proprietor,  coolly 
pocketing  his  dimes.  "  Walk  up,  don't  be  afraid, 
gentlemen !  You  pay  ten  cents  for  a  swing,  and  if 
you  knock  the  peg  down  with  the  ball  coming  back, 
you  win  half  a  dollar  ;  five  for  one.  Try  it  ?  " 

He  appealed  to  Kit  in  vain  ;  Kit,  just  then,  had  his 
fascinated  eyes  on  the  young  man  who  had  been  los- 
ing. Suddenly  he  stepped  forward  and  extended  his 
hand  with  the  eagerness  of  one  snatching  at  the 
smallest  chance  of  friendly  assistance,  exclaiming :  — 

"  Cassius  Brunlow  !  " 

Cassius  Brunlow  gave  a  start  of  surprise,  and  eyed 
him  sharply. 

"You  have  slightly  got  the  advantage  of  me, 
young  man,"  he  replied,  coolly. 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?  You  used  to  work  for  my 
father,  in  the  tin-shop.  I  am  Kit !  " 

"  Ah  !  Kit,  indeed  ?  But,  great  Grimes !  what 
has  happened  to  you  ?  You  look  as  if  you  had  been 
seeing  the  elephant,  and  got  slightly  stepped  on. 
How's  your  dad?  It's  years  and  years  since  I've 
been  among  the  East  Adam  folks." 

The  young  man  rattled  away  so  glibly  that  it  was 
some  moments  before  Kit  could  tell  his  story.  Then 
he  said,  appealingly  :  — 

"  My  father  is  dead.     And  I  am  living  with  Uncle 


<y8  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

Gray.  His  horse  was  stolen  last  night ;  I  have 
traced  him  to  this  town,  and,  I  think,  to  this  cattle- 
show.  I  don't  know  anybody  here  —  and  I  am  so 
glad  I  have  met  you  ! " 

Mr.  Cassius  Brunlow  opened  his  eyes  and  held 
his  breath  a  second  or  two  before  exclaiming :  — 

"  What  a  volley  of  thunderbolts  you  fire  off  at  a 
poor  mortal,  all  at  once!  Your  father  dead  ?  Just 
as  I  was  thinking  of  going  back  to  work  for  him 
again  !  The  best  man  I  ever  did  a  stroke  for  in 
seven  States !  And  your  uncle's  —  what  did  you 
say  ?  —  his  horse  stolen  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  I've  been  travelling  all  day  to  find  him. 
And  now,  here  I  am,  at  night,  twenty  miles  from 
home, — though  it's  farther  than  that  the  way  I've 
come,  —  in  a  place  where  I  don't  know  a  soul,  and 
I  don't  know  what  to  do ! "  Here  poor  Kit's  voice 
broke. 

"Do?"  cried  Mr.  Cassius  Brunlow,  cheeringly. 
"I'll  tell  you  what  you  must  do.  Step  into  this 
hash-shop  with  me,  and  get  a  lunch  the  first  thing. 
That's  what  you  need." 

"  I  can't  do  that,"  replied  Kit,  "  till  I  have  found 
the  horse.  Come  around  here  with  me  ;  I  have  looked 
everywhere  except  on  the  side  of  the  cattle-pens." 

"  There  are  no  horses  over  there,"  said  Brunlow, 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  5£ 

very  positively,  "and  I  don't  believe  the  man  who 
took  yours  would  be  likely  to  bring  him  to  so  public 
a  place  as  this.  Though  I  must  say  it  seems  to  be 
a  great  resort  for  doubtful  characters  of  all  kinds. 
Aint  it  a  shame,"  he  went  on,  without  giving  Kit  a 
chance  to  reply,  "that  the  agricultural  fair  —  an 
institution  from  which  so  much  good  is  expected  — 
should  have  run  out  as  it  has  of  late  years,  and 
been  given  over  almost  entirely  to  horse-racing  ? 
Look  around  you  here  to-day,  and  what  do  you 
see  ? " 

"  I  don't  see  what  I  want  to  —  my  uncle's  horse  !  " 
said  Christopher. 

"A  few  calves  and  pigs,  a  little  show  of  fruit  and 
garden  stuff  —  I  could  eat  all  the  pears  and  grapes 
there  in  the  hall  in  a  few  hours ! "  Mr.  Brunlow 
declared.  "And  what  else  is  there  besides  the 
horse-trotting  ?  That  I  call  demoralizing.  But 
it's  of  a  piece  with  some  of  these  outside  shows. 
There's  that  little  game  of  swinging  the  ball,  for 
example." 

"The  one  you  were  just  now  playing?"  queried 
Christopher,  surprised  to  hear  his  old  acquaintance 
criticise  the  management  of  the  cattle-show  from  a 
moral  point  of  view. 

"  I  wished  to  see  if  it  was  anything  more  than  the 


6O  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

miserable  game  of  chance  which  I  proved  it  to  be," 
replied  Brunlow.  "  I  call  it  a  disgrace  to  New 
England  agriculture  that  such  a  thing  should  be 
allowed  at  any  of  its  annual  exhibitions !  Don't 
you  ? " 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  be  just  right,"  said  Christo- 
pher. "  I  hadn't  thought  about  it  before.  I  can't 
think  of  anything  but  Uncle  Gray's  horse ! "  And 
he  gazed  anxiously  around. 

"Your  Uncle  Gray,  as  I  remember  him,"  said 
Cassius,  "  is  a  most  excellent  man,  with  a  nose  like 
a  short  sickle,  and  a  tendency  to  asthma.  It's  too 
bad  about  his  horse  !  I  must  try  to  help  you  find 
him." 

"  I  should  be  so  glad  if  you  would !  "  exclaimed 
the  grateful  Christopher. 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  rejoined  Brunlow.  "  Now 
.iet's  see !  If  the  fellow  was  so  foolish  as  to  bring 
hin.  to  a  show  like  this —  " 

"  It's  out  of  our  county,  and  a  long  way  from  the 
place  where  the  horse  is  known,"  suggested  Kit. 
"  I  don't  believe  there's  anybody  here  from  our  town 
but  me." 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  And  you  say  you  have 
traced  him  to  Peaceville  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it ! " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  6l 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Brunlow,  "  you're  doing  a 
very  unwise  thing  to  stand  talking  with  me  here. 
Don't  you  see  ?  The  rascal  may  not  yet  have 
brought  him  into  the  ground  ;  or,  if  he  has,  he  may 
spy  you  out,  and  get  off  with  him  while  you  are 
gawping  about.  I'll  tell  you  what's  your  scheme. 
You  should  be  at  the  entrance,  where  you'll  be  sure 
to  see  him  if  he  takes  the  horse  out  or  in.  You 
made  a  mistake  leaving  it." 

"  Perhaps  I  did,"  poor  Kit  murmured.  "  But  I 
thought  there  might  be  some  other  way  out,  and 
I  could  look  around  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  There's  no  other  way  out  ;  and  you'd  better 
teave  me  to  look  around  for  you.  Describe  the 
norse,  so  I  shall  know  him  if  I  see  him." 

Kit  described  Dandy's  points,  which  Cassius  re- 
hearsed after  him,  telling  them  off  on  his  fingers. 

"  A  dark  brown  horse  "  (first  finger).  "  Mottled 
with  lighter  spots  on  his  sides "  (second  ditto). 
"  Foretop  looks  like  it  had  been  lately  braided  — 
shod  behind,  not  before  — yes  !  yes  !  I've  got  him  !  " 
said  Brunlow,  touching  fingers  number  three  and 
four. 

"  You've  got  him  ? "  repeated  the  startled  Christo- 
pher. 

"On   my  fingers,"  Brunlow   smilingly   explained. 


62  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

"  And  here !  "  touching  his  forehead.  "  I  shall 
know  him  when  I  see  him.  Light  brown,  with 
darker  spots  —  " 

"No,  no  !  "  cried  Kit.  "  Dark  brown,  with  lighter, 
roundish  mottles — " 

"  Certainly  !  Aint  that  what  I  said  ?  I'll  look  at 
every  horse  on  the  ground,  and  if  he's  shod  before 
and  not  behind  —  " 

"  Behind,  and  not  before !  "  interrupted  Christo- 
pher. 

"Hear  me  out!"  continued  Brunlow.  "If  he's 
shod  before,  and  not  behind,  I  shall  know  at  once 
he  aint  your  horse.  Now  rush  to  the  gate,  and 
don't  leave  it  till  I  meet  you  there.  We'll  have 
your  nag,  and  trap  the  rogue,  too,  if  they're  on  this 
ground." 

Kit  started  to  run  toward  the  entrance  ;  while  Mr. 
Cassius  Brunlow,  instead  of  devoting  his  time  and 
energies  at  once  to  making  the  promised  search, 
stood  holding  Dandy  Jim  poised  on  the  ends  of  his 
fingers,  and. smilingly  watching  the  boy  as  he  scud- 
ded away  across  the  open  field  amid  the  scattered 
pedestrians. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Cassius  snapped  Dandy  off  his  fin- 
ger-tips, and  uttered  his  favorite  exclamation  :  — 

"GREAT  GRIMES!" 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  63 

This  was  called  out  by  an  unexpected  movement 
on  the  part  of  Christopher,  who,  seeing  some  wagons 
over  on  the  side  of  the  cattle-pens,  and  reasoning 
that  where  wagons  were  horses  were  likely  to  be, 
notwithstanding  Brunlow's  positive  assurance  to  the 
contrary  and  the  fact  that  none  were  in  sight,  turned 
aside  from  his  course,  in  order  to  give  a  rapid  look 
in  that  direction. 

"  I  can  see  at  the  same  time  if  anybody  on  horse- 
back passes  in  or  out,"  he  said  to  himself,  keeping 
an  eye  on  the  entrance  while  hastening  to  the 
sheds. 

These  were  mostly  empty,  the  great  annual  cattle- 
show  having  dwindled,  as  Brunlow  truly  observed, 
to  a  mere  horse-racing  affair,  with  a  pretty  exhibition 
of  fruits  and  vegetables  and  a  little  live-stock  thrown 
in  as  additional  attractions.  A  few  of  the  pens  were 
occupied  by  handsome  bulls  and  heifers  and  noble- 
looking  swine,  which  nobody  seemed  interested  in 
just  then  ;  while  the  owners  of  the  wagons  Kit  saw 
had  taken  advantage  of  the  condition  of  things  by 
slipping  their  horses  into  the  least  dilapidated  of  the 
ancient-looking  unused  sheds. 

These  owners,  like  almost  everybody  who  was 
not  leaving  the  grounds,  were  over  at  the  trotting- 
course.  It  was  getting  late,  and  the  sheds  were 


64  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

in  shadow.  Each  had  two  or  three  bars  up,  shut- 
ting in  the  horses,  some  of  which  were  loosely  har- 
nessed, while  the  harnesses  of  others  had  been 
stripped  off,  and  left  in  the  wagons  near  by,  or 
thrown  across  the  low  partitions  of  boards  dividing 
the  pens. 

In  the  gloom  of  these  low-roofed  stalls  three  or 
four  of  the  animals  looked  much  alike,  and  all  ap- 
peared dark  enough  to  be  Dandy  Jims  to  the  wild- 
eyed  boy  peering  eagerly  over  the  bars.  But  at 
sight  of  one  he  gave  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  Dandy  !  Dandy  Jim  !  " 

And  the  horse  gave  a  quick,  low  whinny  of  recog- 
nition. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  CASH  BRUNLOW  HELPED. 

T/^IT'S  heart  almost  jumped  over  the  bars  before 
him,  in  his  exultation ;  but  he  managed  to 
tumble  along  with  it,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  at  the 
horse's  head. 

Dandy  was  not  hitched,  his  bridle  having  been 
taken  off  with  the  saddle,  and  thrown  over  the 
boards  separating  that  pen  from  the  next.  -  Kit 
examined  his  forelock  and  found  it  not  braided  but 
crinkled,  as  the  young  farmer  had  described.  He 
backed  him  around  to  the  light  and  saw  the  mottles 
under  his  sides.  He  lifted  his  feet,  one  after  an- 
other, and  saw  that  he  was  shoeless  before  and  shod 
behind. 

Then  he  gave  a  chuckling,  gleeful  laugh,  thrilled 
through  and  through  with  the  delight  of  his  dis- 
covery. It  was  no  feverish  dream ;  he  had  the 
stolen  horse  at  last ! 

He  dropped  the  topmost  bar,  and,  tumbling  out 
again,  saw  Mr.  Cassius  Brunlow  hastening  toward  him. 

65 


66  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  I've  got  him  !  I've  got  him  !  "  said  Kit,  triumph- 
antly, feeling  amply  paid  for  all  his  pains,  and  for- 
getting once  more  his  hunger  and  fatigue. 

"  You  don't  say  ! "  said  Cassius.  "  Well,  that's 
better  luck  than  I  expected.  I  had  just  discovered 
these  wagons,  and  was  coming  over  to  have  a  look 
myself.  Is  that  the  saddle  ? " 

"  That's  the  saddle,  and  that's  the  bridle.  I've 
found  everything  but  the  thief.  I'd  give  something 
now,"  said  the  exultant  Christopher,  "to  set  eyes  on 
him ! " 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  "  Mr.  Brunlow  inquired. 

*'  I'd  find  the  policeman  I  spoke  to,  and  have  the 
scoundrel  arrested.  I'd  pay  him  for  giving  me  all 
this  trouble!" 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  fun,  though  you  might  be 
giving  yourself  a  deal  more  trouble.  I  know  how 
these  things  work ;  and  I  advise  you,  now  you've 
found  the  horse,  to  secure  him,  and  not  mind  much 
about  the  thief,  who  will  be  too  shrewd  to  get 
caught.  That  is,"  added  the  friendly  Cassius, 
"  unless  you  care  more  for  revenge  than  you  do  for 
your  own  convenience."' 

"  I'd  like  to  punish  him  !  "  said  Kit,  with  sparkling 
eyes. 

"  In  that  case,  we  can  leave  the  horse  and  go  off 


HIS  ONE  FAULT.  67 

one  side  and  watch  when  he  comes  to  take  him," 
suggested  Mr.  Brunlow.  "  We  might  lie  in  ambush 
under  these  sheds  ;  but  the  trouble  is,  he  is  prob- 
ably watching  us,  and  will  keep  out  of  the  way." 

"  I  wish  it  wasn't  quite  so  late,"  said  Kit.  "  I'd 
like  to  get  Dandy  home  to-night." 

"  To  do  that,  you'll  have  to  start  at  once ;  and  I'd 
advise  you  not  to  lose  time  by  stopping  to  punish 
anybody." 

"  He  may  have  sold  the  horse."  Kit  grew  thought- 
ful. "  I  think  I'd  better  see  the  policeman  I  spoke 
to,  anyway.  He  was  more  interested  in  the  racing 
than  he  was  in  my  story ;  but  he  told  me  to  look  for 
the  horse,  and,  if  I  found  him,  to  come  back  and  let 
him  know.". 

"  Of  course,  you  will  act  as  you  please,"  Mr.  Brun- 
low replied,  discouragingly.  "  But  I  advise  you  to 
do  nothing  of  the  sort.  Tell  him  you've  found  a 
stolen  horse ;  and  what  does  he  say  ?  He  says, 
'  Prove  property,  and  take  him.'  But  how  can  you 
prove  property?" 

"  Why,  I  know  Dandy,  and  Dandy  knows  me ! 
You  know  me,  too,  Cash  Brunlow !  " 

"  But  the  policeman  don't  know  you,  nor  me, 
either.  I  can  swear  I  have  known  you  three  years, 
and  believe  you  to  be  an  honest  boy.  But  how  will 


68  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

he  know  I'm  not  a  rogue  myself?  At  such  times 
the  best  men  are  liable  to  be  suspected." 

"There's  something  in  that,"  Kit  admitted. 

"Then,  if  the  thief  comes  forward,  matters  may 
get  worse  mixed.  Suppose  he's  an  honest-appear- 
ing fellow,  as  many  of  these  rascals  are ;  swears  up 
and  down  the  horse  belongs  to  him,  and  you  are 
the  rogue,  trying  to  get  him  away  ?  What'll  be  the 
result  ?  You'll  both  be  arrested,  probably,  and  kept, 
nobody  knows  how  many  days,  in  the  lock-up,  till 
your  uncle  and  two  or  three  witnesses  can  be  sent 
for,  and  the  thing  at  last  gets  straightened  out." 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  all  this,"  Kit  replied. 

"  As  a  friend,  let  me  think  for  you,  and  show  you 
how  to  take  advantage  of  the  situation.  Possession 
is  nine  points  of  the  law.  Here  you  are.  Here's 
your  horse.  There's  the  saddle.  Clap  saddle  on 
horse,  pitch  self  on  saddle,  and  off.  Any  complica- 
tions regarding  the  thief,  or  any  supposed  new 
owner  he  may  have  been  sold  to,  can  best  be  settled 
after  you  have  got  him  into  your  uncle's  stable  at 
home." 

"  I  see,"  said  Kit,  bewildered  by  this  rapidly 
uttered  advice. 

"  They  are  just  calling  another  heat,  over  on  the 
trotting-ground,"  Mr.  Cash  Brunlow  continued. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  69 

"Everybody  is  crowding  to  see  it.  The  coast  is 
clear.  You've  just  time  to  run  over  to  the  pie-shop 
and  get  a  bite  for  your  journey.  I'll  have  every- 
thing ready  by  the  time  you  come  back.  Or  will 
you  start  on  an  empty  stomach  ?  " 

Kit  felt  that  his  stomach  was  almost  too  empty 
for  that,  and  considered  this  counsel  good. 

"  Dandy  was  fed  at  noon ;  and  now,  if  /  am  fed," 
said  he,  "we  can  make  the  home-stretch  in  a 
hurry!" 

"Now  you  talk  sense,"  replied  Cassius.  "Lucky 
you  came  across  me  just  as  you  did !  Do  you  need 
any  money  ?  "  — putting  a  hand  into  his  pocket. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  have  some.  Only  look  out 
for  Dandy  while  I  am  gone.  And  the  thief,  if  he 
comes  around." 

"  How  shall  I  know  him  ? " 

"  Haven't  I  told  you  ?  "  said  Kit.  "  I  picked  up  a 
complete  description  of  him  in  making  inquiries  on 
the  road." 

"Indeed!"  said  Cassius,  gayly.  "That's  lucky. 
Give  us  the  points." 

"Young  fellow,  not  much  over  twenty,"  began 
Christopher. 

"  Good  ! "  exclaimed  Brunlow,  getting  his  fingers 
ready,  and  touching  the  tip  of  his  left  forefinger  with 


70  HIS  ONE  FAULT. 

the  tip  of  his  right.  "Young  fellow,  not  over 
twenty." 

"  Sallow  complexion,"  Kit  went  on.  "  Smooth 
face.  Suit  of  dark,  checked  cloth.  Narrow-brimmed 
straw  hat.  Medium  height." 

"All  right,"  said  Brunlow,  having  recited  each 
item  after  Christopher,  and  tallied  it  duly  on  its 
particular  digit.  "  Medium  height,"  adding  the 
thumb  of  his  right  hand  to  his  little  mnemonic 
system.  "  I  see  him  !  " 

"  See  him  ?  "  cried  Kit,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  in  my  mind's  eye.  I  should  know  him  in 
the  biggest  crowd  by  such  a  description  as  that." 

"Would  you?"  said  Kit,  wondering  at  this  con- 
fidence. "  I've  been  afraid  I  might  pass  him  ;  so 
many  men  dress  and  look  about  alike." 

"That's  true.  But  it  aint  probable  any  two  men 
have  all  these  six  points,"  said  Brunlow,  holding  up 
his  four  fingers  and  two  thumbs.  "Now  make 
tracks,  stuff  your  pockets,  and  be  back  here  by  the 
time  I  get  the  saddle  and  bridle  on.  I'll  stand 
guard." 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  Christopher  to  feel 
that  he  had  a  friend  to  aid  and  advise  him  in  this 
difficulty.  For  the  trouble  was  not  all  over,  by 
any  means,  when  he  had  found  the  home;  the 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  71 

next  thing,  he  now  saw,  was  to  get  safely  off  with 
him. 

"  How  kind  he  was  to  offer  me  money !  "  he  said  to 
himself.  "I  wouldn't  have  believed  that  I  should  ever 
be  so  glad  to  see  Cash  Brunlow.  I  guess  he  has 
changed  a  good  deal  since  he  worked  in  the  shop." 

That  was  not  exactly  years  and  years  ago,  as  Mr. 
Brunlow  had  said,  in  his  extravagant  way,  but  barely 
eighteen  months.  He  had  been  a  restless,  untrust- 
worthy fellow  then.  He  was  an  apt  mechanic,  but 
inclined  to  slight  his  work,  and  he  could  never  stick 
to  it  long  at  a  time.  When  tired  of  staying  in  one 
place,  and  doing  one  thing,  he  would  suddenly  pack 
his  little  kit  of  tools,  and  set  off  on  his  travels,  pick- 
ing up  a  precarious  living  as  an  itinerant  tinker. 

He  was  about  twenty-six  years  old,  though  he 
appeared  somewhat  younger ;  and  in  the  past  four 
years  he  had  come  back  twice  to  Mr.  Downimede's 
shop,  working  for  him  a  few  months  at  a  time  in  the 
intervals  of  his  wanderings.  Kit  had  a  faint  im- 
pression that  he  had  been  sent  off  the  last  time  for 
some  discreditable  conduct,  but-  he  could  not  remem- 
ber what  it  was. 

"  Mother  never  liked  him,"  the  boy  thought ; 
"  but  she  will  be  glad  to  know  he  has  done  me  this 
good  turn." 


72  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

Still,  even  with  Cassius  Brunlow  to  stand  guard 
over  Dandy,  Kit  was  unwilling  to  be  out  of  sight  of 
the  horse  many  seconds ;  he  looked  back  as  he  ran, 
and  in  a  very  short  time  might  have  been  seen 
returning,  his  pockets  bulging  with  oyster-crackers, 
and  a  half-eaten  wedge  of  pie  in  his  hand. 

Cassius  advanced  a  few  steps  to  meet  him,  beckon- 
ing impatiently. 

"  Stow  the  last  of  that  fodder  in  your  shirt-bosom," 
he  said,  alluding  to  the  pie,  "  what  you  can't  stuff 
into  your  fly-trap,"  meaning  Kit's  mouth,  "  and  tum- 
ble into  that  saddle  quick  as  ever  you  can." 

His  hurried  manner  of  speaking  filled  Kit  with  a 
kind  of  trepidation,  though  he  couldn't  see  what 
fresh  cause  there  was  for  alarm. 

"The  trotters  are  coming  around  in  the  last 
heat,"  Brunlow  muttered  excitedly.  "The  races 
will  be  over  in  a  minute.  Then  there'll  be  a 
rush  !  We  must  be  out  of  this  before  the  crowd 
comes." 

"You  have  saddled  and  bridled  him?"  said  Kit, 
stopping  at  the  bars,  which  his  friend  had  let  down 
for  him,  and  peering  into  the  shed. 

"  He  is  all  ready,"  said  Brunlow,  following  him  in. 
"  Foot  in  stirrup  —  there  ! "  giving  him  a  boost. 
"  Don't  hit  your  head  !  the  roof  is  confoundedly  low. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  73 

How  are  the  stirrups  ?  I  took  'em  up  a  few  holes 
by  guess." 

"  They  are  all  right,"  mumbled  Kit,  with  the  last 
of  the  pie-crumbs  still  obstructing  his  speech,  while 
his  pockets  dropped  oyster-crackers.  "  Where  do 
you  live  now,  —  if  I  should  want  to  know  ? " 

He  had  that  day  resolved  and  re-resolved  that  he 
would  "  think  of  things  "  in  future  ;  and  he  afterward 
prided  himself  on  having,  in  a  moment  of  haste, 
considered  a  point  which  might  prove  important. 

"  Right  here  in  the  village ;  at  work  in  the  stove- 
store.  Don't  stop  to  thank  me,"  said  Cash,  with 
the  utmost  urgency,  helping  to  get  the  reins  into 
Kit's  hands  ;  for  Kit  was  not  much  of  a  horseman, 
and  the  lowness  of  the  shed-roof  compelled  him  to 
bend  forward  awkwardly  on  the  horse's  neck. 

"  See  who  comes  to  take  him  ;  spot  the  thief  if 
you  can,  and  let  us  know  !  "  mumbled  Kit,  with  his 
mouth  in  the  horse's  mane. 

"  I'll  spot  him  if  he  comes  round,"  replied  Brun- 
low.  "  I've  got  him  on  my  fingers  ;  dark  complex- 
ion, checked  shirt,  and  the  rest." 

"  Sallow  complexion,  dark  checked  suit"  Kit 
corrected  him,  as  he  rode  out  from  under  the  shed. 

"  To  'be  sure.  I  understand.  Good-by,  and  luck 
to  you  I " 


74  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

And  having  got  the  animal  well  over  the  bars, 
Brunlow  gave  him  a  parting  slap.  He  started  away 
at  a  trot. 

"  Good-by  !  "  Kit  called  back  across  his  shoulder. 
And  he  was  off. 


" '  Good  ! '  exclaimed  Brunlow,  getting  his  fingers  ready."    Page  09. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    HOME-STRETCH. 

'TNHE  racing  was  over.  The  cheers  for  the  victors 
•*•  swelled  in  the  damp  evening  air,  and  died  away. 
A  thin  mist,  rising  from  the  river  and  the  shores, 
was  mingling  with  the  nimbus  of  dust  above  the 
trotting-course,  and  the  black  mass  of  humanity 
there  against  the  twilight  sky  was  breaking  up  into 
scattering  throngs  when  a  boy,  wearing  a  base-ball 
cap,  mounted  on  a  dark  horse,  rode  out  briskly  from 
the  fair  ground,  passed  beneath  the  huge  symbol  of 
an  ox-yoke  over  the  gateway,  amid  a  few  dodging 
pedestrians,  and  disappeared  down  the  dim  street. 

Kit  knew  there  must  be  a  nearer  way  home  than 
the  roundabout  one  he  had  come,  and  found,  by  in- 
quiring, that  he  had  struck  it  on  leaving  the  village. 
He  watered  his  horse  at  a  wayside  trough  ;  and  was 
pleased  to  find  him  so  spirited  after  his  day's  jaunt. 

"  But,  of  course,"  he  thought,  "  it  hasn't  been  so 
hard  on  Dandy  as  it  has  on  me.  He  has  fed  and 
rested,  and  now  he  knows  he  is  going  home." 

75 


76  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

The  short  twilight  of  the  fall  equinox  was  deepen- 
ing  into  night  ;  and  the  moon  would  not  be  up  for 
an  hour.  But  with  the  plain  road  before  him,  Kit 
did  not  care  for  the  gloomy  prospect.  His  food 
refreshed  him  ;  he  munched  his  crackers  as  he 
rode.  The  air  was  deliciously  cool,  and  he  found 
rest  in  the  saddle  after  being  so  long  on  his  aching 
feet. 

The  horse  needed  little  urging.  His  hard  trotting 
shook  Kit  up  badly  ;  but  his  canter  was  not  so  ob- 
jectionable ;  and  when  tired  of  both  canter  and  trot, 
Kit  found  him  capable  of  a  fast  walk. 

"  You  do  well,  Dandy,  after  your  day's  run  with  a 
thief  ! "  he  said,  cheeringly.  "  I  didn't  know  there 
was  so  much  go  in  you.  I  wish  I  could  have  found 
the  rascal ;  and  it  seems  as  if  I  might." 

He  was  not  at  all  satisfied  with  his  failure  in  that 
particular ;  and  now,  with  twinges  of  conscience,  he 
reflected  that  Dandy  might  already  have  been  sold 
to  an  innocent  purchaser. 

"  It  was  almost  like  stealing  my  own  horse  ! "  he 
thought,  with  a  sense  of  something  wrong  in  the 
transaction.  "  I'm  afraid  I  ought  not  to  have  been 
so  ready  to  take  Cash  Brunlow's  advice.  With  him 
to  help  me,  nobody  could  have  got  Dandy  away 
again.  Though  I  might  have  been  bothered  a  good 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  77 

deal,  as  he  said  ;  perhaps  hindered  a  day  or  two,  till 
Uncle  Gray  could  be  sent  for." 

Still  he  was  haunted  by  an  uneasy  feeling  that  he 
had  not  pursued  the  most  courageous  and  upright 
course;  together  with  very  disagreeable  memories 
of  things  he  had  heard  said  of  Mr.  Cash  Brunlow  in 
East  Adam  village. 

"  But  he  seems  changed  ;  he  certainly  was  kind 
to  me,"  Kit  comforted  himself  with  thinking.  "  Why 
should  he  have  taken  such  pains  to  help  me  off 
with  Dandy,  if  he  hadn't  thought  it  was  for  the 
best  ?  Anyhow,  I  have  got  the  horse !  And  Cash 
can  attend  to  any  one  who  comes  to  claim  him,  just 
as  well  as  if  I  was  there." 

Meanwhile,  the  autumnal  night  had  closed  around 
him,  damp  and  chill,  with  far-stretching  shadows 
infolding  farms  and  woods,  and  silence  disturbed 
only  by  the  thud  of  his  horse's  hoofs,  and  occasion- 
ally an  insect's  melancholy  note.  No  light  save  that 
of  the  stars,  shining  hazily  overhead,  and  here  and 
there  a  gleam  in  some  wayside  window  as  he  passed. 

But  now  the  soft  radiance  of  the  rising  moon 
began  to  brighten  the  east.  It  grew  to  a  dome  of 
fire,  and  rolled  up,  a  vast  burning  ball,  on  the  hori- 
zon, with  an  increasing  light,  which  mingled  silverly 
with  the  mist  that  mantled  the  earth.  Then  the 


78  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

shadows  passed  from  Kit's  mind,  and  he  thought 
only  of  the  triumph  of  taking  Dandy  home. 

Unaccustomed  to  the  saddle,  he  was  tired  enough 
of  it  before  long.  He  trotted,  he  cantered,  he  let 
the  horse  walk ;  he  tried  all  possible  positions, 
except  riding  backwards,  to  ease  his  jolted  body  air' 
sore  limbs.  He  missed  the  way  two  or  three  tinux 
and  once  went  some  distance  out  of  it  ere  he  m^t  i 
man,  who  set  him  right. 

At  last  he  began  to  recognize  familiar  scenes,  and 
knew  the  streets  of  his  native  village,  which  ap- 
peared, however,  strange  and  romantic  in  the  moon- 
light to  him,  riding  through.  He  remembered  the 
anxious  haste  with  which  he  traversed  them  on  foot 
in  the  morning,  which  now  seemed  many  days  ago, 
and,  with  a  glad  heart,  patted  his  horse's  neck. 

The  belfry  clock  was  striking  eleven  as  he  ap- 
proached his  mother's  house,  and  saw  a  lamp  burn- 
ing in  the  front  window. 

"  She  is  sitting  up  for  me  ! "  he  thought,  with  a 
thrill  which  sent  quick  tears  into  his  dimming  eyes. 
"  Wont  she  be  pleased  !  " 

He  rode  up  to  the  little  gate.  Before  he  could 
dismount,  the  maternal  ears,  intently  listening  with- 
in, caught  the  sound  of  halting  hoof-beats,  and  a 
window  was  thrown  open. 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  79 

"  Is  that  you,  Christopher  ? "  said  the  widow,  put- 
ting out  her  head. 

"  Yes'm  ! "  cried  Kit,  eagerly.  "  I've  got  the 
horse!" 

"  I'm  thankful  ! "  she  exclaimed,  devoutly,  a  great 
burden  of  anxiety  lifted  from  her  mind  by  that  good 
news.  "I  didn't  believe  it  possible!  I  have  been 
concerned  about  you  all  day,  and  blamed  myself  for 
'etting  you  go  off  with  so  little  money.  How  did 
you  succeed  ?  Your  uncle  has  been  here,  and  he 
said  it  was  a  wild-goose  chase." 

"So  it  was,"  cried  the  exultant  Kit.  "But  I  have 
got  the  goose." 

"  Can't  you  come  in  and  have  some  supper  ? " 

"No,  I'm  not  very  hungry.  I  must  hurry  along 
and  let  Uncle  Gray  know.  I'll  see  you  and  tell  you 
everything  to-morrow." 

"  You've  had  a  hard  time,  I  know ! "  said  the 
sympathetic  mother. 

"  Yes,  but  I've  got  my  pay  ;  the  nut's  all  the 
sweeter  for  the  cracking,"  laughed  Kit.  "  I'm  glad 
I  saw  you.  Now  go  to  bed  and  sleep." 

"  Yes,  I  will.     Bless  you,  my  son  !     Good-night !  " 

"  Good-night ! " 

And  Kit  rode  away  in  the  moonlight.  The  sound 
of  the  hoof-strokes  could  be  heard  long  after  horse 


8O  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

and  rider  had  disappeared  up  the  half-moonlit, 
shadowy  street ;  and  it  was  not  until  they  had  died 
in  the  distance  that  the  window  was  closed,  and 
the  widow  turned  away  from  fondly  gazing  and 
listening,  murmuring  "  Bless  the  dear  boy  !  "  with  a 
sigh  of  grateful  relief. 

The  lights  were  out  in  his  uncle's  house  when  he 
came  in  sight  of  it ;  nobody  was  sitting  up  for  him 
there. 

Yet  good  Uncle  and  Aunt  Gray  were  not  asleep. 
He  was  too  conscientious  a  man  to  feel  quite  at  ease 
about  the  boy  he  had  parted  with  angrily  in  the 
morning,  let  alone  the  loss  of  the  horse ;  and  she 
had  flung  out  more  than  once  her  very  positive 
opinions  on  that  painful  subject. 

He  had  come  home  late  from  a  harassing  day's 
quest  of  both  boy  and  horse ;  and,  in  his  nervous 
state,  he  thought  it  too  bad  that,  instead  of  the 
sympathy  he  craved,  she  should  bestow  upon  him 
so  much  superfluous  good  advice  of  the  retrospective 
sort. 

"There's  no  use  tellin'  me  over  and  over  agin 
what  I'd  better  have  done,"  he  replied  to  -one  of  her 
arguments,  groaning  and  turning  on  his  pillow. 
"  Why  can't  ye  tell  me  what  to  do  now  ?  You're  so 
wise  about  things  past  and  done  for,  I  wish  you 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  8 1 

could  show  half  as  much  wisdom  regardin'  the 
present  and  futur'.  Tell  me  how  to  find  the  hoss, 
for  one  thing." 

"  One  would  think  your  life  was  bound  up  in  a 
hoss ! "  Aunt  Gray  replied.  "  I  don't  see  as  it's 
any  such  terrible  calamity,  if  we  never  see  Dandy 
Jim  again.  You've  money  enough  to  replace  him 
without  hardly  feeling  it." 

"  I  don't  care  about  the  hoss  ! "  said  Uncle  Gray, 
impatiently. 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  of  that  opinion  in  the  morn- 
ing," his  wife  answered,  quietly.  "  One  would  have 
thought  you  cared  something  about  him,  by  the  way 
you  took  on.  It  seemed  to  me  you  cared  more  for 
him  than  you  did  for  Christopher.  The  idee  of  your 
fairly  sending  the  boy  off  your  premises,  and  order- 
ing him  never  to  set  foot  on  'em  again  without  the 
hoss  ! " 

"  There  it  is  agin  !  I  had  no  notion  he  would 
take  me  at  my  word,"  said  Uncle  Gray. 

"Anybody  who  heard  you  would  have  thought  a 
boy  of  spirit  would  take  you  at  your  word,"  Aunt 
Gray  replied,  with  calm  persistence.  "  And  Chris- 
topher is  a  boy  of  spirit ;  you'll  admit  that." 

"  Yes,  he's  a  good  boy  enough ! "  Uncle  Gray 
grumblingly  admitted,  "if  't  wa'n't  for  his  one  fault." 


82  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"That's  nothing  to  be  wondered  at  in  a  boy  of 
his  age.  All  boys  are  heedless.  It  aint  because 
he's  my  nephew  that  I  stand  up  for  him,"  Aunt 
Gray  continued;  "I  believe  I  should  have  just 
as  much  patience  with  him  if  he  was  yours;  and 
I  sometimes  think  you  would  have  had  considerable 
more." 

"That's  as  unjust  a  fling  as  you  ever  made  in  your 
life,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal ! "  Uncle  Gray 
exclaimed,  resentfully.  "  I  couldn't  have  borne  with 
him  more  if  he'd  been  my  own  son." 

"  I  am  glad  you  will  have  that  thought  to  comfort 
you,"  she  replied,  in  her  cold,  peculiar  tone,  which 
she  could  use  with  the  most  cutting  effect. 
"Though  I  can't  help  wondering  a  little  if  you 
would  really  have  stood  by  and  seen  a  boy  of  your 
own  go  off,  as  Christopher  did  this  morning,  and 
not  have  called  him  back,  even  if  you  /tad  been  in  a 
passion." 

Another  groan  from  Uncle  Gray. 

"  I  was  in  a  passion  ;  I'll  own  that.  I  was  out  of 
all  manner  of  patience  with  the  boy.  But  I  sup- 
posed he  would  just  go  off,  mebbe,  an  hour  or  two, 
lookin'  for  the  hoss,  and  then  come  back,  or,  at 
least,  go  home  to  his  mother's.  He's  probably  there, 
abed  and  asleep,  by  this  time  —  as  we'd  ought  to  be, 


HIS   ONE  FAULT.  83 

'stid  of  frettin'  the  blessed  night  away  over  what 
can't  be  helped." 

"  He  wasn't  back  there  at  eight  o'clock,  so  Abram 
said.  And  now,  if  you  can  sleep,  not  knowing  what 
has  become  of  him,  or  whether  you'll  ever  see  him 
again,  all  I  can  say  is,  I'm  glad  you've  got  so  easy  a 
conscience." 

There  was  a  silence  of  a  few  minutes,  broken  by 
Uncle  Gray's  restless  sighing  and  turning;  when 
suddenly  Aunt  Gray  said,  —  "  Hark  !  " 

"  What  did  you  imagine  you  heard  ? "  said  Uncle 
Gray. 

"A  horse!  And  't wasn't  imagination  at  all;  I 
hear  him  now  !  Ifs  Christopher  !  "  And  Aunt  Gray 
started  up. 

"  Can't  be !  "  said  Uncle  Gray,  hoping  she  would 
contradict  him.  "  No  such  good  news  as  that !  " 

"  It  is !  The  horse  has  stopped  at  the  barn.  He'll 
find  everything  locked  up." 

She  was  up  in  a  moment,  lighting  a  lamp,  which 
soon  cast  its  kindling  beams,  like  a  rising  orb,  across 
the  shining  planet  of  her  bald  head  (the  false  hair 
lay  on  the  bureau) ;  then,  with  a  garment  thrown 
loosely  over  her  shoulders,  she  hastened  to  undo  the 
back  door. 

Somebody   was    there    before   her.     She  slipped 


$4  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

back  the  bolt  and  looked  out.  A  boy,  in  a  base-ball 
cap,  stood  in  the  moonlight,  with  one  foot  on  the 
step.  It  took  her  a  moment  to  recognize  him  (she 
had  never  before  seen  him  in  that  cap) ;  then  she 
exclaimed  :  — 

"  Christopher  !  you  have  come  !  " 

"  Yes,  aunt,"  said  Kit.  "  And  I  want  the  key  to 
the  stable." 


CHAPTER   IX. 
"THE  BEATERMOST  DUNDERPATE." 

"IT  THEN  Kit,  after  his  day's  tramp,  and  his  long 
^  *  night  ride,  dismounted  in  his  uncle's  yard, 
he  could  with  difficulty  stand  upon  his  feet.  He  felt 
as  if  the  body  they  bore  belonged  to  somebody  else, 
and  that  it  weighed  a  ton.  He  was  so  stiff  and  lame 
that  when  he  had  lifted  one  leg  up  over  the  doorstep, 
he  could  hardly  lift  the  other. 

It  was  then  and  there  he  was  met  by  Aunt  Gray, 
whose  second  question  was  uttered  with  joyful  eager- 
ness as  she  peered  out  at  him  from  the  kitchen  door, — 

"  You  have  brought  back  Dandy  ? " 

"  I  have  brought  back  Dandy,"  Kit  replied,  with 
quiet  exultation. 

She  was  asking  more  questions,  fumbling  for  the 
key  on  the  door-post  with  one  hand,  while  with  the 
other  she  held  together,  across  her  ample  bosom, 
the  loose  covering  she  had  thrown  on,  —  when  a  loud 
voice  was  heard,  proceeding  from  the  bedroom  she 
had  just  left.  It  was  Uncle  Gray,  calling  out  exci- 

«S 


86  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

tedly  to  know  if  the  comer  was  indeed  Kit,  and  if  he 
had  really  found  Dandy. 

"  He  won't  believe  it  till  he  sees  you  and  hears 
your  story,"  said  Aunt  Gray. 

"I'll  slip  Dandy  into  the  stable  ;  then  I'll  come  in 
and  tell  how  it  all  happened,"  said  Kit. 

Elated  by  his  aunt's  surprise  and  joy  over  the 
success  of  his  expedition,  he  took  the  key  she 
gave  him,  and  went  limping  vigorously  to  the 
stable,  the  door  of  which  he  threw  open,  leaving 
the  reins  on  the  horse's  neck,  and  waiting  for  him 
to  walk  in. 

"  Come,  Dandy,  are  you  rusty  in  the  hinges,  too  ? 
Or  don't  you  know  your  own  stable  when  you  come 
to  it  at  this  time  o'  night.  Well,  you're  a  stupid 
Dandy,  I  should  say  !  Asleep  ? " 

And  taking  the  horse  by  the  bridle  he  led  him 
into  the  dark  stall.  The  mare  in  the  stall  beyond 
gave  a  whinny  of  welcome,  but  got  no  whinny  in 
response  from  Dandy  Jim. 

Kit  left  the  animal  to  stand  with  saddle  and  bridle 
on,  while  he  went  in  to  speak  with  his  uncle  and  get 
a  lantern. 

"  Wai,  f'r  instance !  you've  done  it,  Christopher ! " 
said  Uncle  Gray,  half  dressed,  slipping  his  suspen- 
ders up  on  his  shoulders  as  Kit  entered  the  room, 


HIS    ONE    FAULT,  8/ 

where  the  lamp  was  burning  on  the  bureau.  "  How 
did  you  manage  it  ?  " 

"  I  got  on  the  trail,  and  stuck  to  it ;  and  when  I 
lost  it  I  looked  till  I  found  it  again,"  said  Kit.  "  For 
I  wasn't  going  to  come  back  without  the  horse." 

"  You  mustn't  take  what  I  said  too  much  to  heart," 
replied  his  uncle.  "  I  spoke  too  hasty,  and  I  didn't 
really  mean  what  I  said.  Though  the  truth  is,  you 
had  tried  me  dreadfully  with  your  heedlessness  ;  and 
when  I  found  you'd  left  the  stable  door  unlocked,  and 
Dandy  was  stole  in  consequence,  that  was  the 
feather  that  broke  the  camel's  back." 

"I  don't  blame  you  a  bit,"  said  Kit,  with  earnest 
frankness. 

"  Well,  I'm  rej'iced  to  hear  you  say  that.  And  it's 
all  right  now  you've  brought  Dandy  back.  Where  — 
how  did  you  find  him  ?  " 

"  At  the  cattle-show,  over  in  Peaceville.  I  traced 
him  there,  and  found  him  in  a  shed.  There  was  no- 
body with  him  at  the  time,  and  I  just  took  him  and 
rode  him  home." 

"  Wai,  you  was  smart,  I  must  say !  A*>4  you 
didn't  git  holt  of  the  thief  ? " 

"No,  he  was  in  the  crowd,  watching  the  iaces,  I 
suppose.  I  should  have  been  glad  enough  to  catch 
him  if  I  had  had  time,  and  been  sure  of  doing  it. 


88  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

But  it  was  growing  dark,  and  I  thought  Dandy  was 
of  the  first  importance." 

"  That's  right,  that's  right,"  said  Uncle  Gray,  ap- 
provingly. "  You've  been  smart  for  once.  Think  of 
the  fellow's  surprise,  comin'  back,  to  find  the  hoss  he 
had  taken  had  been  taken  from  him  !  A  boy  so,  I 
don't  know  as  you  could  'a'  done  any  better." 

"  All  I  was  afraid  of  was  that  he  had  already  sold 
Dandy  to  some  one  else,"  said  Kit,  glad  to  free  his 
mind  of  the  only  doubts  he  felt  regarding  the  trans- 
action. 

"  I  see,"  said  Uncle  Gray ;  "  but  you  couldn't  well 
help  that.  The  hoss  is  mine,  and  you  had  a  right  to 
take  him,  no  matter  whose  hands  he  had  fell  into. 
You've  brought  him  back,  and  that's  the  main 
thing." 

The  worthy  man  chuckled  with  pleasure,  so  well 
satisfied  with  the  said  "  main  thing  "  that  he  couldn't 
think  of  criticising  any  part  of  Kit's  conduct. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  should  have  got  off  so  well, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Cassius  Brunlow,"  said  Kit. 

"  That  fellow  ! "  said  Uncle  Gray.  "  Have  you 
seen  him  ? " 

Kit  explained  briefly. 

"  Wai,  f'r  instance  !  I'm  glad  to  know  of  his  doing 
anybody  a  good  turn.  He  owed  it  to  you,  for  your 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  89 

pa's  sake,  if  he  did  to  anybody.  Your  pa  befriended 
him,  and  tried  to  make  something  of  him,  long  after 
most  folks  had  given  him  up  as  a  bad  egg.  I  don't 
know  but  he  give  ye  good  advice,  under  the  circum- 
stances ;  but  I  hope  he'll  find  out  who  went  to  claim 
the  hoss,  and  let  us  know.  Brought  him  home  in 
good  condition,  have  ye  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Kit.  "  You  needn't  put  on  your 
boots ;  I  can  attend  to  him.  He's  been  watered. 
He  won't  need  anything  but  hay  to-night,  will  he  ? " 

"  Mabbe  not.  I'll  go  out  and  see  how  he  looks, 
after  he's  cooled  off  a  little ;  and  see  to  lockin'  up 
the  barn  agin,"  added  Uncle  Gray. 

Meanwhile,  Aunt  Gray  had  lighted  the  lantern  for 
her  nephew,  and  left  it  waiting  on  a  chair,  while  she 
placed  a  little  supper  for  him  on  the  kitchen  table. 

"  I'll  go  out  and  give  Dandy  some  hay,  and  bed 
him  down,  before  I  eat  anything,"  he  said,  "  and  see 
if  I  can't  shut  up  the  barn  myself,  for  once,  without 
leaving  the  key  in  the  door." 

He  could  afford  to  speak  cheerfully  now  of  his 
blunder  of  the  previous  night. 

"There's  no  need  of  uncle's  going  out  at  all," 
he  added,  stepping  with  the  lantern  into  the  moonlit 
space  between  house  and  barn. 

The  stable  door  was  in  shadow ;  but  the  lantern 


QO  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

lighted  it  up,  and  threw  its  glimmer  into  the  stalls 
beyond.  In  the  farther  one  the  mare,  putting  her 
nose  around  the  edge  of  the  partition  over  the  man- 
ger, to  sniff  at  her  neighbor,  just  then  gave  a  vicious 
squeal. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  vixen?"  said  Kit. 
"  She's  the  only  creature  on  the  premises  that  isn't 
glad  to  see  you  back  again,  old  Dandy  Jim !  " 

He  hung  his  lantern  on  a  hook  designed  for  it, 
where  it  would  partly  light  both  barn  and  stalls. 
Then  he  went  up  into  the  loft  and  threw  down  some 
hay  into  Dandy's  rack.  Finally  he  came  around,  and 
slapped  the  sedate  nag  in  a  friendly  way  before 
removing  his  bit. 

"  I'm  pretty  well,  thank  you  ;  how  are  you,  old 
boy  ?  "  he  said,  slipping  the  bridle  off  and  the  halter 
on,  to  the  momentary  annoyance  of  the  animal, 
already  nipping  at  the  hay.  "  Seems  to  me  you 
appear  kind  of  strange ! "  he  added,  as  he  unbuckled 
the  girt. 

He  took  off  the  saddle  and  hung  it  in  its  place, 
and  scattered  straw  for  Dandy's  bed.  Then  he 
brought  the  lantern  and  held  it  where  he  could  look 
the  horse  carefully  over  and  see  what  it  was  that 
did  not  appear  just  right  about  him. 

Suddenly  the  solid  globe  seemed  sinking  away 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  9! 

from  beneath  the  feet  of  Master  Christopher.  He 
started  back,  then  bent  forward  again  with  a  cry  of 
consternation  freezing  his  soul. 

"  Oh,  my  life  !  Oh,  my  life !  "  he  moaned  in  a  tre- 
mor of  wild  terror  and  dismay,  which  would  have 
made  even  an  enemy  pity  him. 

Still,  a  faint,  ghastly  hope  struggled  against  his 
fear.  It  must  be  the  long  day's  jaunt  which  had 
somehow  wrought  an  astounding  change  in  the 
horse.  Kit  looked  more  closely  at  his  sides,  where 
no  mottles  were  to  be  seen ;  but  that  might  be 
owing  to  the  imperfect  light.  He  pulled  down  his 
head,  and  held,  with  shaking  hand,  the  lantern  to 
his  forelock,  which  had  not  the  least  appearance  of 
ever  having  been  braided  ;  but  it  was  just  possible 
the  night  dews  had  straightened  the  crinkled  locks. 

Lastly  he  lifted  one  foot  after  another,  and  found 
him  shod  before  and  behind. 

With  horrible  sickness  of  heart  he  leaned  back 
against  the  side  of  the  stable  and  tried  to  gather  his 
wits  together, —  tried  to  remember  how  the  mistake 
had  happened,  and  think  what  was  now  to  be  done. 

But  to  his  scattered  wits  there  was  only  one  thing 
sure :  — 

The  horse  he  had  brought  home  was  not  Dandy 
Jim, 


CHAPTER   X. 

"AN    UNCONSCIONABLE    SCRAPE." 

TTNCLE  GRAY  did  not  suppose  there  was  any 
*T  special  need  of  his  going  out  of  the  house  again 
that  night ;  for  he  did  not  doubt  but  Kit,  after  the 
severe  lesson  he  had  received,  could  be  trusted  to 
put  up  the  horse  and  lock  the  barn  door. 

"I  don't  know  but  it'll  be  a  good  thing  it  has 
happened,  on  the  whole,"  he  said  to  Aunt  Gray ; 
"  for  I  guess  it'll  learn  him  to  have  his  wits  about 
him  in  futur'." 

He  was  in  excellent  spirits,  pulling  on  his  boots. 
But  he  was  wheezing  a  little ;  and  she  urged  him 
to  go  to  bed  again,  predicting  that  he  would  be 
asthmatic  to-morrow. 

"I  guess  I  sha'n't  be,"  he  said.  "I  don't  feel  like 
sleep.  I  want  to  see  how  Dandy  looks,  after  his 
scrape.  I  can't  help  laughin'  when  I  think  on't ! 
How  smart  Christopher  was  !  " 

He  glanced  at  the  table  as  he  passed  through  the 
kitchen. 

"Ye  might  give  him  a  little  of  that  new  honey 
9* 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  93 

for  his  supper,"  he  said,  taking  his  hat  from  its  peg. 
"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  't  would  taste  good,  with  his 
bread  and  butter." 

The  small  corner  of  his  heart  filled  by  the  nephew 
glowed  with  uncommon  warmth  that  night. 

"  I  guess  I  will,"  said  Aunt  Gray,  innocently. 

The  truth  is,  she  was  all  the  while  intending  that 
Kit  should  have  some  of  that  honey,  and  was  only 
waiting  for  her  husband  to  get  back  to  bed  before 
setting  it  on  the  table.  Perhaps  she  dreaded  more 
his  unpleasant  remarks  at  sight  of  it  than  his  asth- 
matic troubles  on  the  morrow.  For  the  honey  repre- 
sented so  much  cash ;  and  Uncle  Gray,  besides 
being  even  more  economical  than  Aunt  Gray  (which 
is  saying  much),  often  thought  her  inclined  to  over- 
indulgence of  her  nephew. 

"  Might  give  him  a  little,"  he  added,  recalling,  the 
moment  he  had  spoken,  that  genial  fault  of  hers, 
together  with  the  present  high  price  of  honey. 

He  even  waited  to  see  her  bring  a  small  cake 
of  the  pellucid  comb  in  a  sauce-dish,  before  putting 
on  his  hat  and  going  out.  He  considered  it  a  pretty 
liberal  quantity.  How  he  would  have  regarded  it 
if  he  had  gone  first  to  the  barn  and  learned  of  Kit's 
last  stupendous  blunder,  it  is  needless  to  surmise. 

He  was  to  find  that  out  soon  enough. 


94  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  F'r  instance ! "  he  exclaimed,  gleefully,  entering 
the  stable  ;  "  if  anybody  had  told  me  this  mornin', — 

He  got  so  far  when  suddenly  he  stopped. 

Kit  had  set  the  lantern  on  the  floor,  and  was 
standing  beside  it,  —  if  such  an  attitude  can  be 
called  standing,  —  looking  so  shrunken,  so  weak 
and  woe-begone,  that  you  would  almost  have  said 
he  had  shared  the  fate  of  Dandy,  and  been  changed 
to  another  boy  by  some  dreadful  hocus-pocus.  He 
was  trying  to  rally  himself  when  Uncle  Gray,  after 
an  amazed  glance  at  the  horse,  burst  forth  with  :  — 

"What  —  what  sort  of  a  beast  have  you  got 
here  ? " 

"  I  don't  know ! "  murmured  the  dazed  victim  of 
disaster. 

"Don't  know!"  ejaculated  Uncle  Gray,  in  a 
swollen  and  agitated  voice,  which  may  be  compared 
to  a  cat,  with  tail  and  fur  up  at  some  horrible  cir- 
cumstance. "Where's  Dandy?" 

"  Don't  know !  "  faltered  the  child  of  misery. 

"  What  do  you  know  ? "  roared  Uncle  Gray. 

"  I  know  I'm  a  fool,  and  that's  about  all !  "  said 
the  abject  slave  of  shame  and  misfortune. 

With  lips  tightly  rolled  together,  features  in  a 
terrible  snarl,  and  eyes  scintillating  like  small  fire- 
works each  side  of  the  sallow,  hooked  nose,  Uncle 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  95 

Gray  took  up  the  lantern,  and  looked  the  strange 
horse  over  from  forelock  to  fetlocks,  from  hock  to 
withers.  Then  he  set  the  lantern  down  again  without 
a  word,  and  took  two  or  three  strides  to  and  fro,  Kit 
all  the  while  shrivelling  among  the  pendent  har- 
nesses, and  the  horse  tranquilly  munching  hay  with 
stolid  equine  unconsciousness  of  the  little  drama  in 
which  he  was  so  important  a  figure. 

After  a  brief  silence,  broken  by  the  regular 
champing  sound  in  the  manger,  and  Uncle  Gray's 
irregular  chafing  and  fuming,  that  worthy  man, 
suppressing  the  inward  turmoil  to  which  no  words 
could  do  justice,  demanded  sharply  :  — 

"  Where'd  you  git  that  hoss  ? " 

"  Over  at  the  cattle-show,"  Kit  answered,  meekly. 

"  But  you  said  you  found  Dandy  !  " 

"  I  did  find  him  !  I  left  him  a  minute  to  get  a 
lunch,  and  went  back  to  take  him,  —  I  hadn't  a  doubt 
but  what  I  had  the  same  horse,  —  and,  now  I've  got 
him  home,  he's  another  horse  altogether ! " 

"Another  hoss  altogether!"  Uncle  Gray  re- 
peated, trembling  with  the  tempest  he  could  hardly 
contain.  "  I  should  say !  I  don't  believe  you  found 
Dandy  at  all !  " 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  though  I  don't  wonder  you  think 
so,"  said  Kit.  "But  it  was  dark  under  the  shed, — 


g/6  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

and  Cash  Brunlow  tumbled  me  on  his  back  in  such  a 
hurry,  —  and  I  never  was  on  Dandy's  back  but 
twice,  —  and  how  could  I  tell  another  horse  from 
him  then,  in  the  evening  ?  Though  it  seemed  to  me 
there  was  something  wrong  about  him,  two  or  three 
times." 

"  Somethin'  wrong  about  him ! "  echoed  Uncle 
Gray.  "This  hoss  is  no  more  like  Dandy  than  I  be 
like  Isaiah  the  Prophet !  He's  about  the  same  size, 
and  somethin'  nigh  the  same  color,  and  that's  about 
all.  He  carries  his  head  different." 

"  I  noticed  that,  when  I  got  off  his  back,"  said 
Kit.  "  I  couldn't  tell  just  how  he  did  carry  his 
head  when  I  was  riding  him." 

"  He's  a  trimmer  built  hoss,"  continued  Uncle 
Gray.  "  Longer-legged,  a  gre't  sight !  Don't  you 
see?" 

"  Yes,  I  see  now ! " 

"  And  a  younger  hoss,  I  should  say ;  and  he'd 
ought  to  be  a  better  roadster." 

"  I  was  surprised,"  said  Kit,  "  at  his  travelling  off 
so  well  after  his  day's  work.  But  I  supposed  it  was 
because  he  was  going  home." 

"  Coin'  home  !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Gray.  "  I  won- 
der where  his  home  is  !  Do  you  know  what  you've 
done,  boy?" 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  97 

Poor  Kit  answered  only  by  his  looks,  which 
showed  plainly  enough  his  consciousness  of  the 
enormity  of  his  offence. 

"You've  stole  a  hoss;  that's  what  you've  done!" 
said  Uncle  Gray.  "Gi'n  up  Dandy,  after  findin' 
him,  —  if  it's  true  you  did  find  him,  which  I  very 
much  doubt,  —  and  run  off  another  man's  hoss  in 
his  place.  What's  a-gun  to  be  done  about  it?  — 
have  ye  any  idee?" 

"  I  wish  I  had  ! "  murmured  the  wretched  Christo- 
pher. 

"  Wish  ye  had ! "  cried  Uncle  Gray.  "  If  you 
don't  beat  all  the  —  " 

Words  failing  him  to  express  his  sense  of  the 
situation,  he  ended  with  a  wrathful  sniff. 

"  I  don't  see  as  anything  can  be  done  about  it  to- 
night," said  he ;  "  and  we  may  as  well  lock  uf» 
and  go  into  the  house.  Must  be  nigh  on  to  mid- 
night, by  this  time.  Smart  boy,  you  be,  keepin* 
us  all  awake  till  this  time  o'  night,  just  to  see  how- 
big  a  blunder  a  boy  of  your  age  and  inches  can 
possibly  commit !  I  knew  before,  you  was  the 
beatermost  dunderpate  in  all  creation !  What  shall 
I  say  now  ?  " 

"  Say  anything  you  please,"  replied  Christopher," 
his  heart  having  sunk  until  it  reached  the  bed-rock 


98  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

of  self-abasement  and  despair.  "You  can't  blame 
me  any  more  than  I  blame  myself." 

His  utter  submissiveness  seemed  slightly  to 
mollify  the  uncle,  whom  anything  like  excuses  or 
prevarications  would  have  served  but  to  exasperate 
the  more. 

"  Wai,  wal !  le'  's  go  in.  Can't  nothin'  be  done 
till  to-morrer  ;  then  we'll  see  how  your  amazin'  stu- 
pidity can  be  remedied,  if  there's  any  remedy  for  't, 
at  all." 

Uncle  Gray  held  up  the  lantern,  and  scrutinized 
the  strange  animal  again,  before  parting  with  him 
for  the  night. 

"  He's  a  better  hoss'n  Dandy ;  a  younger  and 
more  valooble  hoss.  I  shouldn't  object  to  the 
trade  if  't  was  an  honest  one.  But  to  go  and  steal 
another  man's  beast  because  one  o'  our'n  's  been 
stole,  is  a  kind  of  irreggelarty  't  a  law  and  order 
abidin'  community  aint  likely  to  tolerate." 

"  I  should  suppose  so !  "  said  Kit,  finding  a  certain 
strength  in  the  very  depth  of  humbleness  he  had 
sounded ;  for  in  that  depth  was  truth,  the  source  of 
all  moral  strength.  "  I  don't  tolerate  it  myself  ;  as 
I'll  show  you  to-morrow." 

"  You'll  show ! "  said  Uncle  Gray,  contemptu- 
ously. "What'll  you  do?" 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  99 

"  I  don't  know  just  what,"  replied  Kit.  "  But  I'll 
let  folks  know  that  if  I  am  a  thief,  I  am  an  unwilling 
thief ;  and  that  if  I've  stolen  a  horse,  I  didn't  mean 
it  for  stealing.  I  can  do  that  at  least." 

"  Come,  come ! "  Uncle  Gray  turned  to  go. 
"  No  use  standin'  here  and  talkin'  of  what  you'll 
show,  and  you'll  let  folks  know.  You've  got  your- 
self and  us  into  an  unconscionable  scrape,  and  I 
don't  see  how  we're  a-gun  to  git  out  on't ;  though 
mabbe  you  do,  you're  so  bright !  Le'  's  go  in  and 
tell  your  aunt,  and  see  how  proud  she'll  be  of  her 
smart  nephew  ! " 

He  locked  up  the  barn  with  one  hand,  while  he 
held  the  lantern  with  the  other;  poor  Kit  feeling 
that  he  was  unworthy  to  offer  the  least  assistance. 

Aunt  Gray  was  quite  as  much  astonished  as  that 
excellent  man,  her  husband,  had  been,  on  learning 
the  net  result  of  Kit's  arduous  all-day's  expedition. 
But  she  was  more  inclined  to  take  his  part ;  and  she 
was  the  first  to  offer  a  probable  explanation  of  his 
most  extraordinary  mistake. 

"  It's  all  a  trick  of  that  miser'ble,  mean,  despica- 
ble Cassius  Brunlow,"  she  declared.  "  He's  equal  to 
any  low  trick,  and  I'm  sorry  enough,  Christopher, 
you  had  anything  to  do  with  him." 

"  So  am  I ! "  cried  Uncle  Gray.     "  And  I'm  aston- 


IOO  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

ished,  I'm  astonished,  boy  !  you  should  have  trusted 
him  for  a  moment." 

Kit,  worn  and  haggard,  sitting  at  table,  trying 
to  eat  his  supper,  did  not  see  fit  to  remind  his  uncle 
of  some  very  different  observations  he  had  heard  a 
little  while  before  on  the  same  subject,  when  it  was 
thought  Dandy  had  been  secured  partly  through  Mr. 
Brunlow's  management. 

"  And  it's  my  opinion,"  cried  Aunt  Gray,  nodding 
her  big  bald  head  to  give  emphasis  to  her  words,  as 
she  stood,  still  in  dishabille,  portly  and  grim  at  the 
end  of  the  table,  — "  it's  my  positive  opinion  Cash 
Brunlow  is  the  thief !  " 

"  No  doubt  on't !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Gray.  "  How 
could  you  —  how  could  you  for  an  instant  believe  he 
meant  any  good  to  you,  with  his  advice  and  help  ? — 
a  notorious  scamp  like  him  !  " 

And,  standing  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  he 
scowled  his  blackest  disapprobation  upon  the  culprit, 
actually  at  that  moment  tasting  the  precious  honey  ! 

Unconsciously  tasting,  it  must  be  said.  Kit  knew 
no  more  that  honey  was  in  his  spoon  and  that  the 
spoon  went  to  his  mouth  than  if  he  had  been  an 
automaton.  He  was  thinking ;  and  as  he  thought, 
the  blood  rushed  to  his  cheeks  and  brow. 

For  he  remembered  just  then  how  he  had  stood 


HIS  ONE   FAULT.  10 1 

looking  squarely  into  Brunlow's  face  and  described 
the  thief  to  him, —  sallow  complexion,  smooth  face, 
suit  of  dark  checked  goods,  narrow-brimmed  straw 
hat,  medium  height,  —  without  noticing  that  Brun- 
low's own  appearance  corresponded,  item  for  item, , 
with  the  description,  which  he  checked  off,  with  so 
innocent  an  air,  on  his  fingers ! 


CHAPTER   XI. 

A    ROGUE'S    STRATEGY. 

~\T  7"E  have  already  heard  how  Mr.  Cassius  Brunlow, 
*  *  when  weary  of  the  work-shop,  had  sometimes 
taken  to  the  road  as  a  travelling  tinker.  But  he  was 
never  long  satisfied  even  with  that  light  and  varied 
occupation  ;  for  though  the  experiences  it  yielded 
were  large,  the  revenues  were  small ;  and  it  was  a 
necessity  of  his  restless  nature  that  he  must  not  only 
see  the  world,  but  also  be  well  fed  and  entertained. 

Hence  a  habit  he  had  fallen  into  of  supplementing 
his  kettle-mending,  and  soldering  of  tin  pans,  with  a 
little  industry  of  a  less  praiseworthy  sort.  If  he 
stopped  the  leak  in  your  boiler,  you  were  apt  to  find 
that  he  had  made  a  more  serious  leak  in  your  house- 
hold economies  by  pocketing  a  silver  fork  or  a  tea- 
bell.  Discovering  your  losses  after  he  was  gone, 
you  resolved  to  look  out  for  him  when  he  should 
come  that  way  again  ;  but  he  did  not  soon  come  that 
way  again.  The  country  is  large,  and  Mr.  C.  Brun- 
low distributed  his  favors  over  a  large  area  of  its 
territory.  He  was  travelling  over  familiar  ground 

102 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  IO3 

when  he  chanced  upon  Uncle  Gray's  unlocked 
stable.  It  was  unaccustomed  booty  he  got  there ; 
and  though  he  knew  of  places  where  he  could  dis- 
pose of  odd  household  articles  to  advantage,  he  was 
not  an  adept  in  the  ways  of  converting  horse-flesh 
into  money. 

He  congratulated  himself,  however,  on  having 
mastered  a  new  and  important  branch  of  his  craft, 
when  he  found  at  the  cattle-show  a  broad-backed 
farmer  who  agreed  to  purchase  the  stolen  Dandy  for 
seventy  dollars.  But  the  buyer  had  not  the  money 
in  pocket,  and  must  go  out  and  raise  it  by  borrowing 
or  collecting  bills.  He  had  come  to  the  fair  in  an 
open  buggy,  and  he  drove  off  in  it,  promising  to 
return  at  sunset,  or  a  little  later,  pay  the  money,  and 
receive  the  horse,  which  he  was  to  lead  home  at  the 
tail  of  his  wagon. 

The  seller  might  have  accompanied  him,  but  he 
did  not  do  so,  for  two  or  three  reasons :  he  was  tired 
of  riding,  for  one  thing;  for  another,  he  did  not  care 
to  be  showing  his  stolen  beast  about  town  unnecessa- 
rily ;  last,  if  not  least,  he  was  by  no  means  sure 
his  man  would  raise  the  needful  money,  and,  while 
waiting  for  him,  he  might  see  a  chance  to  sell  Dandy 
to  somebody  else,  perhaps  for  a  larger  sum. 

He  had  not  been  able  to  effect  a  second  bargain ; 


IO4  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

and,  falling  back  upon  the  first,  he  was  amusing  him- 
self, in  the  absence  of  his  customer,  by  trying  his 
luck  with  the  ball  and  peg,  when  accosted  by  his  old 
acquaintance,  Kit. 

That  made  an  embarrassing  situation  for  Brun- 
low.  With  the  stolen  horse,  the  boy  in  search  of 
him,  and  the  purchaser  who  might  return  at  any 
moment  to  claim  him,  the  rogue  found  himself  con- 
fronted by  such  a  problem  as  the  man  in  the  riddle 
had  to  solve,  with  his  fox  and  goose  and  corn.  But 
he  was  equal  to  it. 

His  first  movement  was  to  divert  Kit's  attention 
from  the  cattle-pens,  and  at  the  same  time  separate 
himself  from  him  so  as  to  be  free  to  play  with  his 
other  victim,  in  case  of  his  re-appearance.  He  might 
possibly  complete  his  trade  at  the  shed,  secure  his 
money,  and  get  away  in  the  crowd,  leaving  the  two 
claimants  of  the  horse  to  meet  afterwards.  But 
Kit's  discovery  of  Dandy  spoiled  that  game. 

Then  for  a  minute  or  two  Brunlow  gave  up  the 
horse  as  lost,  and  thought  only  of  his  own  escape 
from  suspicion.  To  insure  that,  it  was  necessary  to 
get  Kit  and  Dandy  out  of  the  way  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, before  the  broad-backed  farmer's  return.  It  was 
an  after-thought  to  take  advantage  of  the  gathering 
darkness,  the  position  of  the  sheds,  and  Kit's  youth 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  IO5 

and  inexperience,  in  order  to  hustle  him  off  at  last  in 
great  haste  with  the  wrong  horse. 

In  playing  that  trick,  Mr.  Brunlow  was  aware  of 
running  a  risk ;  but  he  was  accustomed  to  risks.  If 
the  purchaser  of  Dandy  or  the  owner  of  the  other 
animal  had  come  up  at  this  critical  moment,  the  trick 
would  have  failed,  with  some  danger  to  the  player. 
But  they  kept  away,  and  it  succeeded. 

Simply  enough.  There  was  a  row  of  pens  all  very 
much  alike,  with  horses  in  four  or  five  of  them.  In 
the  pen  next  to  Dandy's,  on  the  right,  was  a  horse  so 
nearly  like  him  that  Brunlow  himself  had  at  one  time 
been  misled  by  the  resemblance,  and  offered  to  sell 
him  to  a  stranger.  It  was  this  little  mistake  of  his 
own  that  suggested  to  his  cunning  mind  the  stu- 
pendous blunder  which  he  finally  caused  Kit  to 
commit. 

The  broad-backed  farmer,  in  trying  the  paces  of 
the  horse  he  was  buying,  had  left  his  saddle  and 
bridle  hanging  on  the  boards  dividing  that  pen  from 
the  next.  The  top  bar  leading  into  Dandy's  shed 
had  been  let  down  by  Kit  himself;  but  no  sooner 
had  he  started  for  the  refreshment  stand,  than  it  was 
put  up  again  by  Brunlow,  as  he  stepped  into  the  pen. 
Then,  when  Kit  returned  with  his  crackers  and  pie, 
he  found  the  bars  of  the  next  shed  down,  and  the 


IO6  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

• 

saddle  and  bridle  on  the  wrong  horse,  which  he 
mounted  and  rode  off  in  the  way  we  have  seen. 

If  the  manoeuvre  had  failed,  Brunlow  would  have 
been  at  no  loss  to  explain  away  his  own  part  in  it. 
"  What ! "  he  would  have  exclaimed,  "  have  I  been 
such  an  idiot  as  to  put  your  saddle  on  another  man's 
horse  ? "  The  words  were  ready  at  his  lips  ;  but  Kit, 
unluckily,  gave  him  no  occasion  to  use  them. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed  !  I'll  spot  the  thief !  I  shall  be 
sure  to  know  him  !  "  he  chuckled,  rubbing  his  fingers 
gleefully,  as  he  saw  Kit  disappear  under  the  great 
ox-yoke  of  the  entrance  without  having  detected 
the  juggle.  "  Narrow-brimmed  straw  hat,  medium 
height  —  Great  Grimes  !  what  a  joke !  " 

A  joke  truly,  from  his  point  of  view ;  Dandy  left 
in  the  shed,  and  the  thief  in  sole  possession  ! 

He  was  well  aware,  however,  that  his  game  was 
not  yet  completely  won.  On  the  breaking-up  of  the 
crowd  at  the  race-course,  he  saw  a  number  of  per- 
sons hastening  towards  him  across  the  fair-ground. 

"  Here  comes  the  owner  of  that  horse,  I'll  bet  a 
billion  dollars  !  "  he  said  to  himself.  But  instead  of 
guiltily  trying  to  avoid  them,  he  advanced  with  the 
most  perfect  assurance  to  meet  the  foremost  of  the 
comers. 

"  Did  you  notice  anybody  going  out  from  here  with 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  IO/ 

a  saddled  horse  ? "  he  asked,  assuming  a  countenance 
of  great  concern. 

They  had  not  noticed  any  one  particularly,  they 
said,  to  his  apparent  disappointment  and  immense 
secret  delight. 

"  Or  have  you  seen  anything  of  a  stray  saddle  and 
bridle  ? "  he  inquired.  "  I  left  mine  hanging  on  the 
side  of  the  pen,  by  my  horse  here,  and  they're  gone ! 
A  horse  that  was  in  the  next  pen  is  gone,  too  ;  and 
I'm  afraid  the  owner  made  free  with  my  property." 

The  persons  he  addressed  were  in  such  haste  to 
hitch  up  their  own  horses  and  start  for  home  that 
they  gave  little  heed  to  his  story,  until  one  called 
out,  from  the  let-down  bars  of  the  vacant  shed :  — 

"  Boys  !  our  horse  is  gone  !  " 

Then  followed  excited  ejaculations,  and  a  brisk 
running  to  and  fro  to  examine  adjacent  sheds.  Those 
who  found  their  animals  and  other  property  safe 
were  still  intent  on  getting  off ;  but  there  were  three 
stout  boys  who  took  a  sudden  and  lively  interest  in 
what  Brunlow  had  to  say. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   DENTING    BOYS. 

rT"vHEY  were  the  Benting  boys,  of  Duckford  ;  Lon 
-*-  and  Tom  and  Charley.  They  had  driven  over, 
seven  miles,  with  their  younger  sister,  Elsie,  to  visit 
the  county  fair ;  and  had  been  so  fascinated  by  the 
races,  in  which  a  promising  colt  they  knew  was  win- 
ning his  first  honors,  that  they  were  unexpectedly 
late  in  starting  for  home. 

It  was  their  horse  that  was  missing  ;  and  the  eager- 
ness with  which  they  turned  to  Brunlow,  now  that 
their  own  interests  appeared  involved  in  the  case  they 
had  no  time  to  consider  before,  would  have  made  a 
cynic  smile. 

Brunlow  would  have  smiled  —  he  would  have 
laughed  maliciously  —  but  for  the  necessity  of  keep- 
ing a  sober  face.  Good  fellows  they  were,  no  doubt ; 
yet  how  little  they  cared  for  his  lost  saddle  and  bridle, 
until  they  learned  whose  horse  had  gone  with  them ! 

They  had  been  chatting  in  low,  hurried  tones  of 

the  triumphs  of  their  friend's  colt,  and  of  the  lateness 

1 08 


HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

of  their  start,  —  wondering  what  the  folks  at  home 
would  think,  and  if  the  cows  would  get  milked  in 
their  absence,  —  when  that  startling  discovery  put 
everything  else  out  of  their  boyish  heads. 

The  girl  had  stopped  at  the  wagon,  in  which  lay 
the  loosely  flung  harness  ;  but  now  she,  too,  advanced, 
in  no  little  consternation,  to  the  pens  where  Tom  and 
Charley  were  questioning  Brunlow. 

"  How  long  had  you  been  here  when  we  came  ? " 
they  demander1. 

"  Just  long  enough  to  find  my  saddle  and  bridle 
missing  "  ;  and  Cassius  showed  where  they  had  hung. 
"  It's  a  wonder  the  fellow  didn't  take  my  horse  ;  lucky 
for  me  he  preferred  yours  ! " 

"  Why  don't  you  harness  this  horse  to  our  wagon 
and  start  after  him  as  soon  as  you  can  ? "  Elsie 
said  to  her  brothers,  who  proposed  the  plan  to 
Brunlow. 

"  Go  along  with  us,"  said  Tom  ;  "  and  get  your 
saddle  when  we  get  back  our  horse." 

For  the  real  thief  to  set  off  with  these  honest 
young  men,  driving  the  horse  that  had  really  been 
stolen,  in  pursuit  of  Kit,  who  was  no  thief  at  all,  and 
the  horse  he  had  taken  by  mistake,  struck  Cassius  as 
a  funny  arrangement.  But  it  was  one  he  might  find 
growing  serious,  in  case  Kit  should  be  overhauled. 


IIO  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

"  I  might  do  it,"  he  said,  "  if  this  horse  was 
mine." 

"  You  called  him  yours,"  said  Tom. 

"  So  I  did  ;  and  I'm  responsible  for  him.  I  sole1 
him  to  a  man  this  afternoon,  and  he  went  off  to  get 
the  money  to  pay  for  him.  He  was  to  meet  me 
again  over  by  the  refreshment  tent ;  but  I  got  tired 
of  waiting,  and  —  great  Grimes  !  "  Brunlow  suddenly 
burst  forth,  apparently  in  vexed  surprise,  "  have  I 
been  duped  ? " 

"  How  duped  ? "  Tom  Benting  asked. 

"  I  believe  he's  the  rogue  !  the  man  who  was  want- 
ing to  buy  my  horse  !  That  was  only  a  pretence  ; 
he  was  just  looking  for  a  chance  to  steal  one !  Oh, 
aint  I  soft  ? " 

The  unsophisticated  Cassius  whipped  his  trousers 
with  the  backs  of  his  fingers,  and  scowled  with  pro- 
digious self-disgust. 

"  Somebody  hang  me  on  a  tree,  somewhere,  to 
ripen,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  I  am  so  jolly  green !  " 

As  nobody  volunteered  to  do  him  that  favor,  he 
continued,  in  his  immature  and  verdant  state,  to 
rail  upon  other  people's  roguery  and  his  own  trans- 
parent innocence. 

The  boys  now  urged  again  the  plan  they  had 
proposed ;  to  which  it  seemed  that  he  could  have  no 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  Ill 

longer  any  objection,  if  the  man  he  awaited  was  in- 
deed a  cheat.  But  Cassius  held  off. 

"If  mine  was  a  fast  horse,  and  we  knew  just 
which  way  the  fellow  had  gone,  it  might  pay,"  he 
said.  "  But  that  was  an  old  saddle,  not  worth  tak- 
ing much  trouble  to  find,  anyway;  and  to  start 
off  at  this  time  of  day,  to  hunt  you  don't  know 
where,  for  you  don't  know  who  —  I  don't  just 
fancy !" 

Meanwhile,  the  oldest  of  the  boys  had  been 
making  inquiries  for  the  lost  horse  at  the  entrance ; 
and  he  now  came  back,  declaring  that  he  believed 
he  had  heard  from  him. 

"A  little  fellow  in  a  white  cap  rode  out  on  just 
such  a  horse,  not  ten  minutes  ago.  We  must  follow 
him  up!" 

"  How  can  we?"  asked  Charley. 

"On  foot,  if  no  other  way,"  said  Lon,  resolutely. 
"  Elsie !  I've  got  a  chance  for  you  to  ride  with  the 
Rawdons.  Get  home  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  tell  the 
folks  what  has  happened,  so  they  needn't  be  sur- 
prised if  they  don't  see  us  before  midnight." 

He  was  a  sturdy,  energetic  youth,  and  his  deter- 
mined voice  and  manner  put  new  life  into  the 
younger  boys.  They  told  him  of  their  plan  of  using 
Brunlow's  horse,  and  Brunlow's  objection  to  it. 


112  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  You  don't  care  for  your  bridle  and  saddle  !  "*  /r  \d 
he  to  that  reluctant  young  man;  "nor  very  ,r»i  .h 
for  helping  other  folks  in  trouble,  I  suppose." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Brunlow,  smiling  blar,..ily. 
"That's  my  weakness.  I  shouldn't  be  r.ere  if  I 
hadn't  lent  a  man  a  hundred  dollars,  jusl  1.o  accom- 
modate him,  and  been  obliged  to  take  t'.iis  horse  for 
the  debt." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Lon,  "accommodate  us!  If 
we  don't  get  your  saddle  and  bridle  for  you,  I'll 
engage  to  pay  you  for  your  trouble,  and  give  you 
supper  and  lodging,  in  any  case.  What  do  you  say  ? 
Yes,  or  no !  We've  no  time  to  lose  !  " 

Cassius  was  beginning  to  look  upon  this  as  a 
promising  adventure,  —  trusting  his  ready  wit  to  do 
more  to  hinder  than  to  help  the  pursuit  of  Kit,  if  he 
joined  in  it,  and  to  get  himself  out  of  difficulty,  if  it 
should  prove  too  successful.  Here  might,  also,  be  an 
opening  for  another  sale  of  Dandy,  if  the  one  already 
arranged  had  failed,  as  he  feared. 

Moreover,  he  was  in  need  of  ready  money,  and, 
unless  he  could  raise  some,  he  did  not  see  just  what 
he  was  to  do  with  himself  and  Dandy  for  the  night. 

"  Well,  as  you  say  ;  anything  to  accommodate ! " 
he  finally  replied  to  Lon's  proposal.  And  the  har- 
ness went  on  Dandy's  back  in  a  hurry. 


HIS   ONE  FAULT.  113 

Tom  was  putting  Elsie  into  their  neighbor  Raw- 
don's  wagon,  when  she  said  to  him :  — 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  General !  But  I  don't 
believe  in  that  man  very  much  ;  do  you  ? " 

"  He  seems  a  clever  sort  of  fellow,"  Tom  replied. 

Though  hardly  sixteen  years  old,  she  was  much 
brighter  than  her  big  brothers,  in  some  respects. 
She  had  watched  Brunlow  closely,  and  detected  in 
his  plausible  speech  a  tone  of  insincerity. 

"There's  something  about  him  I  don't  like,"  she 
said.  "  I'm  afraid  he  is  fooling  you." 

"  He  can't  fool  us  very  much,"  Tom  answered, 
confidently.  "  Three  to  one !  " 

"That  is  true;  but  look  out  for  him,"  were  Elsie's 
parting  words  as  she  rode  off  with  the  Rawdons. 

How  much  cause  the  brothers  might  have  had  to 
remember  her  warning,  if  their  plan  had  been 
carried  out,  cannot  be  told ;  for  it  was  defeated  by  a 
circumstance  as  vexatious  to  themselves  as  it  was 
agreeable  to  Brunlow. 

Dandy  was  harnessed  to  the  Benting  wagon,  and 
Brunlow  had  mounted  to  the  front  seat  with  Lon, 
while  Tom  and  Charley  sat  behind.  They  were 
driving  out  of  the  almost  deserted  fair-ground,  into 
the  evening  atmosphere  of  dew  and  dust  that  hung 
low  over  the  skirts  of  the  village;  Lon  looking 


114  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

eagerly  for  a  policeman  he  had  left  to  learn  the 
direction  the  little  rider  in  the  white  cap  had  taken, 
while  Brunlow  argued  that  the  man  who  had  the 
Benting  horse  wore  a  black  hat,  and  was  by  no 
means  little  ;  when  all  at  once  he  called  out:  — 

"  I'm  wrong  !  there's  my  man,  after  all !  " 

It  was  indeed  the  purchaser  of  Dandy,  coming  to 
keep  his  agreement. 

"  I  had  given  you  up,"  said  Cassius,  as  they  met. 
"Where  have  you  been  all  this  time? " 

"  I  had  more  trouble  gettin'  the  money  than  I 
expected  ;  but  I  have  got  it,"  said  the  man,  reining  up 
in  his  buggy.  "  Not  too  late,  I  hope ! "  looking  sharply 
at  the  harnessed  horse. 

"  No ;  a  bargain's  a  bargain,"  said  Brunlow,  with 
more  satisfaction  than  he  dared  to  show.  "I  can 
give  you  possession  on  the  spot." 

The  Benting  boys  explained  their  situation,  and 
begged  permission  to  drive  the  horse,  at  least  until 
they  could  hire  another.  But  the  buyer  of  Dandy 
was  by  no  means  so  obliging  a  person  as  Brunlow. 
He  was  a  square-jawed,  broad-shouldered,  short- 
necked  man,  with  a  short,  grizzled  beard,  and  a  way 
of  saying,  "  No  !  "  and  "  I  can't !  "  which  proved 
extremely  discouraging  to  the  Bentings. 

"  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  get  home,"  he  said.     "  I  don't 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  115 

care  for  the  saddle ;  I  wouldn't  buy  it,  and  I  won't 
go  a  rod  out  of  my  way  for  it.  Sorry  to  interfere 
with  your  plans,  gentlemen  ;  but  that  hoss  belongs 
to  me,  and  your  harness  must  come  off." 

"If  you  say  so,"  replied  Lon,  seeing  the  sort  of 
man  they  had  to  deal  with,  "  off  it  comes  ! " 

Dandy  was  stripped  immediately,  and  furnished 
with  a  rope  halter,  by  which  he  was  to  be  led  at  the 
tail  of  the  buggy,  the  harness  being  thrown  again 
into  the  Benting  wagon,  and  the  wagon  left  stand- 
ing helplessly  beside  the  street. 

"  This  is  a  pretty  predicament  for  us,  boys  ! "  Lon 
exclaimed,  with  much  repressed  wrath.  But  there 
was  no  help  for  it ;  the  unaccommodating  man  must 
have  his  way. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry  it  has  happened  so,"  re- 
marked the  inwardly  rejoicing  Cassius.  "  I'd  stay 
and  help  you ;  but  I  must  go  with  this  man  over  to 
the  store  yonder,  and  get  my  money,  and  give  him  a 
bill  of  sale." 

Leaving  the  brothers  to  get  out  of  their  difficulty 
as  best  they  could,  he  mounted  the  buggy  beside 
the  broad-shouldered  driver,  calling  back  cheerfully 
as  he  pulled  Dandy  by  the  halter  and  rode  away :  — 

"  It  must  be  the  little  chap  in  the  white  cap  tha 
got  your  horse,  after  all  I  " 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE    RETURN   TRIP. 

T  ATE  to  bed  that  night,  the  harassed  and  weary 
-*"'  Christopher  slept  until  a  late  hour  the  next 
morning  ;  Aunt  Gray  thinking  it  best  he  should  not 
be  called. 

"  Let  him  sleep  when  he  can,"  said  that  large- 
proportioned  lady,  adjusting  her  false  hair  and  cap 
for  the  day.  "  He  has  trouble  enough  before  him !  " 

"  He,  trouble  !  What  do  you  think  of  me  ?  "  said 
Uncle  Gray,  wheezing  horribly,  with  asthma,  over  a 
narcotic  weed  he  was  burning  in  a  saucer.  "  But  let 
him  sleep!  I  don't  want  anything  more  of  the  ser- 
vices of  a  boy  like  that !"  coughing  in  the  smoke  of 
his  sacrifice.  (He  calculated  that  every  time  he 
burnt  stramonium  it  was  at  a  cost  of  two  cents.)  "I 
shouldn't  have  this  attack  if  it  hadn't  been  for — " 

Wheeze !  cough !  A  convulsion  stopped  his 
speech ;  while  the  puffs  of  smoke,  parted  by  the 
•harp  promontory  of  the  hooked  nose,  curled  upward, 
past  the  craggy  brow  and  thickets  of  stiff  iron-gray 

116 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  IT/ 

locks,  filling  the  air  with  a  bluish  cloud  and  a  pun- 
gent odor. 

It  must  have  been  the  odor  which  finally  awakened 
Kit  in  his  attic.  He  knew  it  meant  asthma,  or 
"azmy,"  as  the  old  folks  termed  it;  and  he  started 
up  instantly  with  a  guilty  consciousness  of  his  situa- 
tion. Uncle  Gray  was  always  crabbed  and  exacting, 
as  short  of  temper  as  short  of  breath,  even  on  ordi- 
nary occasions  of  his  attack  ;  what,  then,  must  he  be 
after  such  a  night  as  Kit  had  caused  him  to  pass  ? 

With  sickening  recollections  of  the  strange  horse 
in  the  barn,  and  misgivings  as  to  the  time  of  day, 
the  boy  got  up,  and,  with  gasps  and  tremors  of  anx- 
iety, began  to  put  on  his  clothes.  He  felt  that  he 
was  an  outcast  wretch,  no  longer  of  any  account  in 
the  household  ;  not  suspecting  that  it  was  partly 
owing  to  his  aunt's  kindness  that  he  had  not  been 
called. 

He  was  surprised  at  her  gentle  manner  toward 
him  when  he  appeared  in  the  kitchen  ;  she  told  him 
kindly  to  sit  down  at  his  breakfast,  and  took  it  from 
the  oven  where  she  had  been  keeping  it  warm. 

"  Abram  has  done  the  chores,"  she  said,  — a  piece 
of  news  which  did  not  much  tend  to  lighten  the 
weight  of  condemnation  under  which  he  felt  himself 
bowed  to  the  dust.  The  day  was  dull  and  foggy, 


Il8  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

and  it  was  even  later  than  he  had  surmised.  "  Your 
uncle  aint  well  this  morning." 

"  I  smelt  the  smoke,"  Kit  murmured,  miserably. 
"  It's  all  owing  to  last  night,  I  suppose." 

"  Part  to  that,  I  guess,  and  part  to  the  change  in 
the  weather.  Mental  troubles  is  often  wus  for  him 
than  a  damp  air.  But  eat  your  breakfast,  and  don't 
worry,"  said  Aunt  Gray. 

"  I  can't  help  worrying,"  said  Kit,  with  starting 
tears  at  her  kind  words. 

He  had  little  appetite,  yet  he  felt  that  he  must  eat 
for  strength  in  the  day's  business  before  him.  He 
must  go  and  look  at  that  horse  first,  however, —  a 
duty  from  which  he  shrank.  It  did  not  seem  to  him 
that  he  could  ever  look  at  a  horse  again  without 
qualms. 

He  went  out  heroically,  however,  and  re-examined 
the  beast  by  daylight,  wondering  more  and  more  at 
himself  for  having  mistaken  him,  even  in  his  haste 
and  in  the  dusk,  for  Dandy  Jim.  He  watered  and 
fed  him,  reviewing  at  the  same  time  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  evening  before,  and  then  returned  to 
the  house,  fully  resolved  what  he  was  to  do. 

"Can  I  see  uncle?"  he  asked,  after  forcing  him- 
self to  eat  the  breakfast  awaiting  him. 

"I'm    afraid   't   won't    be   any    gre't    satisfaction 


HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

to  you,"  Aunt  Gray  replied,  "but  you  can  see 
him." 

Kit  knocked  timidly  at  the  bedroom  door,  and  a 
gruff  "Come  in  !"  ushered  him  into  a  room  full  of 
smoke,  in  the  midst  of  which  sat  his  uncle  at  a  light- 
stand,  burning  his  weed  again,  with  his  nose  over 
the  saucer. 

"Wai,  f'r  instance!"  growled  the  old  gentleman, 
barely  giving  him  a  glance  through  the  thick  cloud. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  yourself  this  mornm'  ?  " 

His  voice  ended  in  a  cough,  which  tapered  to  a 
wheeze,  made  as  deep  and  long-drawn  and  distressing 
as  possible,  in  order  to  show  Kit  what  suffering  he 
had  caused  his  poor  old  phthisicky  uncle. 

Kit  made  no  direct  reply  to  the  question,  but 
said  humbly :  — 

"  I  suppose  that  horse  has  got  to  go  back." 

"  Go  back  !  Of  course  he  has  got  to  go  back. 
I  wish  he  hadn't  !  I  want  a  hoss  to  help  draw  —  " 

Here  followed  such  a  tremendous  see-sawing  of 
the  respiratory  organs  that  Kit,  wretched  as  he  was, 
could  not  forbear  the  humorous  fancy  that  Uncle 
Gray  wanted  a  horse  to  help  him  draw  his 
breath. 

After  a  pause,  filled  with  the  uninteresting  music 
of  what  seemed  a  stirred-up  swarm  of  bees  in  his 


I2O  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

chest,  the  old  gentleman  resumed,  with  a  lively  buzz- 
ing accompaniment  :  — 

"I  hoped  the  weather 'ud  graj 'ally  clear  up — so 
I  could  ventur'  out  —  hire  a  hoss,  and  drive  over 
tu  Peaceville  —  leadin'  the  one  you—  Here  his 
words  were  quite  lost  for  a  moment  in  the  tumult 
of  the  agitated  hive  —  "  and  see  what  I  could  hear 
of  Dandy." 

"It  doesn't  look  much  like  clearing  up,"  Kit 
suggested. 

"  No,"  buzzed  Uncle  Gray,  lowering  his  nasal  hook 
into  the  smoking  saucer. 

"It  won't  do  to  wait,"  Kit  went  on.  "I  meant 
to  have  the  horse  half  way  back  there  by  this  time, 
and  I  should  if  I  hadn't  overslept  myself." 

"  You  !  "  whizzed  the  swarm  of  bees. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Kit,  firmly.  "  I  took  the  horse, 
and  I  ought  to  take  him  back.  I  can  ride  him,  and 
maybe  get  Dandy  yet." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  hummed  the  hive.  "  I  wouldn't 
trust  you  with  —  "  the  rest  was  a  whistle. 

"  You  needn't  trust  me  with  anything,"  said  Kit, 
"  unless  it  is  a  bridle.  I  can  ride  bareback,  if  you 
are  afraid  to  let  me  have  the  saddle." 

The  truth  is,  Uncle  Gray  had  decided  objections 
to  letting  the  new  horse  go  until  the  old  one  had 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  121 

come.  It  seemed  a  pretty  good  swap,  but  for  the 
slight  irregularity  attending  it,  and  he  had  been 
studying  how  it  could  be  reconciled  to  right  and  con- 
science. He  see-sawed  noisily  for  some  time  over 
the  problem,  with  his  nose  in  the  smoke ;  then,  hear- 
ing Kit's  hand  on  the  latch,  he  snarled  out, — 

"  Wai !  it's  a  bad  job  !  I  s'pose  the  boss  has  got 
to  go.  And  I  can't  go  with  him,  to-day,  as  I  see  ! " 

Kit  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  but  took  advantage 
of  the  convulsion  which  the  effort  caused  his  uncle, 
to  open  the  door  quickly,  and  shut  it  again  after 
him,  escaping  at  once  from  the  smoke  he  disliked, 
and  the  interview,  which  was  not,  in  a  strict  sense, 
delightful. 

He  had  found  the  base-ball  cap  comfortable  the 
day  before  ;  it  was  at  hand  as  he  went  out  through 
the  kitchen,  and  he  put  it  on.  Then  he  curried  and 
bridled  the  new  horse,  and  led  him  from  the  stable. 

He  did  not  mean  to  take  the  saddle,  not  knowing 
what  he  should  do  with  it  if  he  did  not  have  Dandy 
to  ride  home,  a  happiness  he  could  hardly  hope  for  ; 
but  he  found  himself  so  lame  and  sore  when  he 
came  to  mount,  with  only  an  old  meal-bag  between 
him  and  the  equine  backbone,  that  he  readily 
listened  to  Aunt  Gray's  earnest  counsel. 

"  If  you  must  go,"  she  said,  "don't  think  of  riding 


122  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

without  the  saddle.  It's  of  no  gre't  account,  any- 
way, if  it  never  comes  back." 

She  also  made  Kit  take  a  little  of  her  own  month 
for  necessary  expenses ;  and  sent  him  off  with  her 
best  wishes,  and  a  strict  charge  not  to  "blunder 
into  any  more  trouble." 

The  horse's  walk  was  torture  enough  to  him  at 
first ;  his  trot  was  excruciating.  But  he  forced  him- 
self to  bear  the  exercise,  and  found  his  stiff  joints 
limbering  up  to  it  before  long. 

He  could  not  endure  to  have  his  mother  see  him, 
after  the  false  good  tidings  he  had  brought  her  the 
night  before ;  so  he  took  another  street  through  the 
village,  and  was  soon  retracing,  with  rather  less  of 
joy  and  triumph  in  his  soul,  the  course  of  his  recent 
moonlight  ride  from  Peaceville. 

The  horse  was  quite  as  free  as  he  wished  him  to 
be  at  first.  But  as  the  soreness  of  his  own  limbs 
wore  off,  the  animal's  paces  began  to  relax,  and 
much  clucking,  and  urging  with  heels  and  reins,  at 
length  became  necessary. 

The  more  he  dreaded  meeting  the  owner  whose 
beast  he  had  ridden  off  so  unceremoniously,  confess- 
ing his  error,  and  suffering  he  knew  not  what  re- 
proaches and  retribution,  the  more  anxious  Kit  was 
to  have  it  all  over  with ;  his  conscience,  which  was 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  123 

strong,  spurring  his  courage,  which  was  by  no  means 
weak  in  serious  things,  timid  and  sensitive  boy  as  he 
was. 

He  had  made  about  half  the  distance  when  he 
stopped  to  water  the  horse  at  a  wayside  trough. 
Near  by  grew  a  walnut-tree,  with  boughs  overhang- 
ing the  pump,  from  the  top  of  which  he  reached  up 
and  cut  a  stout  twig,  for  use  as  a  riding-whip  in 
making  the  rest  of  the  journey.  Then,  after  stretch- 
ing his  legs  a  minute,  he  remounted,  and  went  on  at 
a  quicker  pace. 

He  had  not  gone  far,  however,  when  he  discovered 
that  he  had,  with  his  usual  heedlessness,  left  his 
knife  lying  on  the  top  of  the  pump.  He  was  very 
much  incensed  with  himself  for  falling  into  the 
same  old  fault  after  the  lessons  he  had  had ;  and 
hardly  knew  at  first  whether  to  suffer  the  loss  of  the 
knife  or  the  pain  and  chagrin  of  riding  back  for  it. 

"  It's  a  good  half-mile,"  he  said,  looking  back,  —  and 
miles  were  important  to  him  just  then.  "  If  I  was 
sure  of  coming  this  way  with  Dandy  —  " 

But  he  felt  heavily  at  his  heart  the  uncertainty  of 
his  returning  with  Dandy  that  or  any  other  way. 
He  could  not  afford  to  lose  so  good  a  knife ;  and 
this  was  one  that  had  been  his  father's. 

"  I'll  go  back ! "  he  exclaimed,  after  a  little  reflec- 


124  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

tion ;  "  and  then  make  up  for  lost  time  by  riding 
faster." 

It  was  the  first  knife  he  had  ever  been  able  to 
keep  long  in  his  possession  ;  and  he  had  even  mis- 
laid this  two  or  three  times.  He  resolved  to 
recover  it  now,  and  then  see  if  he  could  not  carry  it 
safely  in  his  pocket  at  least  as  many  months  as  his 
father  had  carried  it  years. 

As  he  approached  the  trough,  he  noticed  a  light 
wagon  coming  down  another  road,  which  made  into 
the  one  he  was  on,  at  a  point  not  far  beyond.  It 
carried  two  lads,  who,  looking  across  at  him,  touched 
up  their  horse. 

Something  in  the  excited  looks  they  gave  him 
made  Kit  almost  wish  he  had  not  returned  for  his 
knife.  The  roads  converged  rapidly  ;  and  when  he 
reined  up  at  the  pump,  the  rattling  wagon  could  not 
have  been  more  than  three  or  four  rods  away,  if  it 
had  not  already  passed. 

The  faces  in  it  looked  back  rather  wildly  at  Kit ; 
and  as  he  turned  about,  after  taking  his  knife  from 
the  pump,  without  dismounting,  he  saw  with  grow- 
ing alarm  that,  instead  of  keeping  the  more  direct 
road  beyond  the  fork,  the  wagon  made  a  short  turn 
into  the  road  he  was  on,  and  was  coming  toward 
him. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  12$ 

He  endeavored  to  act  like  the  innocent  boy  he 
was,  and  began  to  ride  away  again,  as  if  nothing 
uncommon  was  happening.  But  as  the  wagon 
followed  with  increasing  racket,  he  could  not  for- 
bear trying  his  new  whip,  and  striking  into  a  pace 
that  might  have  kept  those  too  eager  faces  a  while 
longer  at  a  distance,  but  for  a  startling  circumstance. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

KIT'S   NEW    ACQUAINTANCES. 

T3EHIND  a  low  wall  which  bounded  the  upper 
*-*  side  of  the  triangular  field  separating  the  forked 
roads,  a  sturdy  youth  was  seen  running.  His  parted 
lips  and  his  crooked  arms  flying  quickly  back  and  forth 
in  time  with  his  vibrating  legs,  indicated  strenuous 
effort.  He  had  evidently  left  the  wagon  just  before 
Kit  sighted  it,  and  struck  across  the  lot  in  order  to 
get  behind  him,  while  his  companions  whipped  for- 
ward to  head  him  off. 

He  was  himself  heading  him  off  now,  since  Kit 
had  turned  back  from  the  pump.  He  leaped  over 
into  the  road,  and  made  a  rush  at  Kit's  bridle-rein, 
while  the  wagon  clattered  close  behind. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ? "  Kit  gasped  out  in 
some  trepidation,  no  longer  trying  to  escape. 

"  We'll  show  you  what  we  want ! "  cried  Lon,  — 
for  the  seeming  highwayman  was  no  other  than  the 
eldest  of  the  Benting  boys. 

He  appeared  very  much  excited,  seizing  Kit's  leg 
126 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  I2/ 

with  one  hand  while  he  clung  to  the  rein  with  the 
other. 

"  Get  off  your  stolen  horse  !  " 

"Is  this — your — horse?"  inquired  Kit. 

"  Rather !  "  said  Lon,  with  wild  glee.  "  Here, 
boys !  " 

Tom  and  Charley  tumbled  from  the  wagon  ;  and 
Kit,  half-paralyzed  by  the  suddenness  of  the  onset 
and  the  rude  manner  of  his  capture,  was  pulled  to 
the  ground  before  he  fairly  had  time  to  dismount. 

"Don't  tie  my  hands!"  he  pleaded,  as  they 
whipped  a  halter  out  of  the  wagon  and  were  pro- 
ceeding to  bind  him  with  it  in  no  gentle  fashion.  "  I 
didn't  steal  him  ;  I  took  him  by  mistake." 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  said  Lon,  with  gruff  sarcasm.  "  No 
doubt!" 

"  That's  what  they  all  say,"  added  Charley. 

"  Always  a  mistake  !  "  exclaimed  Tom. 

"  But  it's  so  !  "  Kit  insisted,  with  pale  and  trem- 
bling innocence,  which  appeared  more  like  guilt  to 
the  elated  Benting  boys  than  guilt  itself  would  prob- 
ably have  done.  "I  was  taking  him  back  to  Peace- 
ville." 

"  Of  course  !  "  said  Lon. 

"  Which  way  is  Peaceville  ? "  cried  Charley. 
"The  way  you  were  going  when  we  first  saw  you, 


128  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

or  the  way  you  went  after  we  got  in  ahead  of 
you  ? " 

Then  Kit  saw  how  unfortunate  had  proved  the 
blunder  of  leaving  his  knife  and  having  to  go  back 
for  it.  But  for  that,  he  might  have  passed  out  of 
sight  before  he  was  descried  by  the  boys  from  the 
other  road,  and  returned  the  horse  to  his  shed  at 
the  cattle-show,  in  a  manner  which  would  have 
left  no  doubt  as  to  his  honest  intentions  ;  or,  if  over- 
taken, he  would,  at  least,  have  been  found  on  his 
way  thither.  Who  would  believe  his  story  now  ? 

Not  the  Benting  boys,  evidently.  They  tied  his 
hands  behind  him,  and  hustled  him  into  the  wagon, 
Tom  and  Charley  guarding  him,  seated  between 
their  knees  on  the  wagon-bottom,  as  if  he  had  been 
some  desperate  character  ( poor  Kit ! ),  while  Lon 
mounted  the  recovered  horse  and  rode  near,  ready 
to  lend  assistance  in  case  the  horse-thief,  slipping 
his  bonds,  should  attempt  to  overpower  them  and 
get  away. 

They  had  traced  the  little  rider  in  the  white  cap 
but  a  short  distance  out  of  Peaceville,  the  night 
before,  and  had  been  all  the  morning  scouring  the 
country  roads  for  news  of  him.  No  news  had  they 
been  able  to  get ;  but  here  was  something  better 
still  —  the  horse  and  the  little  chap  himself ! 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  I2Q 

Passing  the  pump  again  and  turning  at  the  fork, 
they  took  the  road  by  which  they  had  come,  talking 
hilariously  of  their  good  luck,  and  now  and  then 
questioning  Kit,  without,  however,  giving  the  least 
apparent  credit  to  anything  he  had  to  say. 

"Whose  saddle  and  bridle  are  these?"  Lon 
demanded,  riding  beside  the  wagon. 

"  They  belong  to  my  uncle,"  replied  Kit. 

"  Uncle  !  Oh,  yes  !  "  Thinking  of  my  uncle  as  a 
cant  term  for  a  pawnbroker,  Lon  added,  sarcastically  : 
"  I've  no  doubt  but  what  they  would  soon  have 
belonged  to  him  if  you  had  got  well  off  with  them  ! '' 

"The  horse  I  was  after  belongs  to  him,  too," 
said  Kit,  from  his  ignominious  seat  on  the  wagon- 
bottom. 

"  No  doubt  of  that,  either  !  " 

Lon  did  not  have  a  bad  heart,  by  any  means ; 
but  he  was  young,  and  exhilarated  by  what  seemed 
to  him  a  great  triumph,  and  he  could  not  help  show- 
ing his  amused  incredulity. 

"  Who  was  the  other  rogue  in  league  with  you 
when  you  stole  this  horse  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  didn't  steal  him,"  Kit  insisted. 
"  And  there  was  nobody  in  league  with  me." 

"No  use  of  your  saying  that,"  Tom  retorted. 
"He  pretended  somebody  had  stolen  his  saddle 


I3O  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

and  bridle ;  but  we  found  afterward  you  and  he 
had  been  seen  together,  and  that  he  helped  you  get 
away  with  our  horse.  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  I  say  what  I've  been  trying  to  say  all  along, 
only  you  wouldn't  hear  me  !  " 

Once  more  Kit  endeavored  to  make  it  plain  that 
there  was  but  one  rogue  in  the  transaction,  and 
that  Brunlow  was  he.  But  his  protestations  fell 
on  unbelieving  ears.  The  evidence  they  had 
gathered  after  Brunlow  left  them  outside  the  fair- 
grounds, that  he  was  an  associate  of  the  little  chap 
in  the  white  cap,  appeared  to  the  boys  so  conclusive 
that  they  only  laughed  at  their  prisoner's  indignant 
denials. 

"  I  hope  you  caught  him  !  "  exclaimed  Kit. 

"  Of  coyrse,  we  caught  him,"  replied  Tom,  who 
thought  it  right  to  answer  falsehoods  with  falsehood. 
"And  he  owned  up  everything." 

"  If  he  owned  up  everything,  he  told  you  the 
only  stolen  horse  was  the  one  he  stole  from  my 
uncle,  —  the  one  I  meant  to  take  when  he  hurried 
me  off  with  yours.  If  he  told  you  that,  he  told  the 
truth  ;  if  anything  different,  he  told  you  what  was 
false." 

Kit  spoke  passionately,  with  swelling  heart  and 
starting  tears. 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  13! 

"  He  won't  dare  to  say  anything  else  to  my  face !  " 
he  added,  struggling,  in  vain,  to  bring  up  one  of  his 
tied  hands  to  his  filling  eyes.  "  Where  is  he  now  ? " 

"Don't  say  anything  more  to  him,"  spoke  up  Lon, 
who  did  not  altogether  approve  of  Tom's  fiction. 

Yet  he  himself  had  one  more  question  to  ask. 

"  You've  been  expecting  to  meet  your  pal  some- 
where this  morning,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  the  horse-thief,"  replied  Kit,  "  he's 
the  last  person  I've  expected  to  meet ;  he  will  keep 
as  far  away  from  me  as  he  can  !  Bring  us  together ; 
that's  all  I  ask.  And  let  me  know  what  became  of 
his  stolen  horse.  Have  you  got  that,  too  ? " 

"I  can't  tell  you  now,"  Lon  replied,  trying  to 
give  his  words  a  dark  significance.  "  You'll  find 
out  all  you  want  to  know,  and  may  be  a  good  deal 
more,  when  you  are  hauled  up  before  the  court. 
No  more  talk,  boys  ;  but  come  along !  " 


CHAPTER   XV. 

AT    MAPLE    PARK. 

A  RIDE  of  four  or  five  miles  brought  the  Bent- 
•^*-  ing  boys  and  their  captive  in  view  of  a  small 
maple-grove  by  the  roadside,  and  a  large  white 
farm-house  gleaming  behind  the  screen  of  foliage 
and  the  colonnades  of  gray  trunks. 

The  grove  was  in  place  of  the  common  country 
door-yard,  and  it  was  unfenced  ;  a  short  driveway 
among  the  trees  led  directly  to  the  doors  of  the 
house.  One  of  these  was  open,  and  in  it  stood  the 
most  radiant  figure  Kit  had  ever  beheld. 

All  the  morning  had  been  dull  and  overcast  ;  but 
now  the  sunshine  flashed  through  broken  clouds, 
lighting  up  the  maples,  variegated  with  the  hues  of 
early  autumn,  the  house-front  half  in  shadow  (it 
stood  a  little  back  from  the  grove ),  and  that  figure 
in  the  door. 

Charley,  the  youngest  of  the  brothers,  had  ex- 
changed his  seat  in  the  wagon  for  Lon's  in  the 
saddle,  and  he  now  rode  forward  under  the  trees, 
swinging  his  hat,  and  shouting  :  — 

132 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  133 

"  Good  news  !     Good  news,  Elsie !  " 

This  was,  in  fact,  the  home  of  the  Bentings, 
which  Elsie,  with  poetical,  school-girl  fancy,  had 
named  Maple  Park.  The  figure  in  the  door  was 
Elsie  herself,  radiant  with  joy  at  sight  of  Charley  on 
the  recovered  horse,  and  of  the  captive  he  pointed 
out,  following  with  his  brothers. 

"Oh  !  you've  got  him,  too  ?"  she  said.  "So  you 
have!"  noticing  the  white  cap,  which  had  been  much 
talked  of  as  the  distinguishing  mark  of  the  little 
rider  last  seen  with  the  missing  horse. 

Rogue  as  they  deemed  him,  the  boys  in  the  wagon 
had  taken  pity  on  Kit,  in  his  painful  posture  on  the 
bottom-boards,  and  got  him  up  on  the  seat,  between 
them,  though  they  had  not  untied  his  hands.  As 
they  brought  him  to  the  door,  Elsie's  countenance 
lost  something  of  its  radiance,  though  nothing  of  its 
beauty.  She  was  really  a  very  pretty,  fresh-com- 
plexioned  blonde.  She  had  the  brightest,  sweetest 
eyes  poor  Kit  had  ever  seen,  and  now  at  sight 
of  him,  dejected,  bound,  and  blushing  in  her  pres- 
ence, they  began  to  deepen  with  compassionate 
concern. 

"  Where's  father  ? "  asked  Lon,  jumping  from  the 
wagon. 

Mr.  Benting  had  also  been  in  quest  of  his  horse 


134  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

that  morning,  and  finding,  on  his  return  home  an 
hour  before,  that  the  boys  had  not  been  heard  from, 
he  had  started  off  again. 

"Mamma  went  with  him  the  last  time,"  said 
Elsie.  "  He  was  going  to  town  to  get  notices  in  the 
papers,  and  offer  a  reward." 

"  That  won't  be  necessary  now,"  said  Lon, 
proudly.  "  How  soon  can  we  get  a  bite  to  eat  ? " 

When  told  that  dinner  would  be  ready  in  half  an 
hour,  he  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Can't  wait !  Give  us  some  bread  and  milk,  cold 
meat,  pie,  and  cheese  ;  anything  in  the  house  !  We 
are  hungry  as  wolves,  but  we  must  be  off  again  in 
five  minutes." 

Elsie  could  not  keep  her  eyes  away  from  the 
prisoner ;  her  brow  knitted  with  an  expression  of 
pity  and  dread,  as  she  thought  how  young  he  was, 
and  yet  how  wicked. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  To  town,  to  get  out  a  warrant,  and  give  our 
horse-stealer  over  to  the  constable,  the  first  thing." 

"Must  you?"  murmured  Elsie,  with  another 
intensely  serious  glance  at  Kit  in  the  wagon. 

"Of  course,  we  must.  What  else  can  we  do  with 
him  ?  So  hurry  up  that  grub !  Charley,"  cried 
Lon,  "  put  the  other  seat  into  the  wagon  ;  then 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  135 

we  can  all  ride  in  that,  and  leave  General  at 
home." 

"  Better  take  General  along,"  suggested  Charley. 
"  We  may  need  to  put  him  into  the  evidence." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Lon.  "But  if  you'd  like  to 
ride  him,  all  right.  I  was  thinking  of  the  saddle  and 
bridle ;  they  probably  belong  to  somebody." 

"  You'll  find  they  belong  to  somebody  ! "  said  Kit. 
"  Talk  about  my  stealing  your  horse !  what  are  you 
doing  ? " 

"Does  he  deny  it?"  Elsie  whispered  to  Tom,  in 
the  entry. 

"  Of  course  he  denies  it !  Do  you  expect  he  is 
going  to  own  up,  like  a  good  boy !  See  what  a  surly, 
hang-dog  look  he  has  !  " 

"  He  doesn't  look  very  amiable,  to  be  sure,"  said 
Elsie.  "  I  don't  wonder  he  appears  angry  and 
ashamed  !  He  has  been  crying,  hasn't  he  ? "  see- 
ing the  streaks  on  Kit's  face,  where  the  dust  of  the 
road  had  settled  on  the  tracks  of  tears  he  had  been 
unable  to  wipe. 

"  Yes ;  he  has  cried,  and  pleaded,  and  told  all 
sorts  of  stories,  to  make  us  let  him  off.  But  we 
don't  go  a-hunting  such  game  every  day  in  the  year," 
said  Tom  ;  "  do  we,  boys  ?  " 

"He  must  have  been  led  into  it  by  some  older 


136  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

person,"  Elsie  declared.  "  I  expected  to  see  a  hard- 
ened wretch,  with  a  bad,  wicked  face  ;  and  I  never 
was  more  surprised  !  If  he  hadn't  been  caught  with 
the  horse  in  his  possession,  I  couldn't  believe  he  had 
had  a  hand  in  stealing  him  !  " 

"  Of  course  you  couldn't  !  "  said  Tom,  who  had 
followed  Elsie  to  the  kitchen.  "  Girls  don't  know 
about  such  things,  anyway.  Now,  see,  what  there  is 
to  eat." 

He  washed  his  soiled  hands  and  dusty  face  at  the 
sink  ;  while  Elsie,  with  the  aid  of  a  stout  serving- 
woman,  set  out  a  hasty  luncheon  in  the  large  middle 
room  of  the  farm-house. 

Tom,  having  made  an  imperfect  toilet,  was  going 
out  to  keep  guard  over  the  prisoner  and  let  his 
brothers  come  in,  when  his  eye  rested  on  the  table, 
where  Elsie  was  placing  knives  and  forks  and  plates. 

"  Are  you  going  to  eat  with  us  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  indeed  ! "  she  replied.  "  It  is  all  I  can 
think  of  doing  to  feed  you." 

"  Then  what  is  this  for  ?  " 

He  pointed  at  a  fourth  plate,  arranged,  with  its 
knife  and  fork,  at  a  discreet  distance  from  the  other 
three,  on  the  end  of  the  large  table. 

"  You  will  give  him  something,  wont  you  ? "  said 
Elsie. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  137 

"If  we  do,  it  will  be  in  the  wagon,"  said  Tom. 
"  Do  you  suppose  we  are  going  to  sit  at  the  same 
table  with  a  horse-stealer  ?  " 

"  I  will  put  his  plate  on  the  kitchen  table, 
if  you  object  to  his  company,"  said  Elsie.  "I 
think  you  ought  to  let  him  get  out  of  the  wagon; 
he  looks  very  tired,  sitting  there,  with  his  hands 
tied ! " 

"  Well !  he'll  have  to  sit  there,  with  his  hands 
tied,  looking  tired,  till  we  take  him  to  Judge  Sweet," 
muttered  Tom. 

Elsie  said  no  more,  but  quietly  removed  the  ob- 
jectionable plate  to  the  kitchen  table,  where  she 
had  it  placed,  flanked  with  the  knife  and  fork,  when 
Lon  came  in. 

He,  too,  noticed  it,  and  frowned  at  her  foolishness 
when  told  for  whom  it  was  dc  ;igned.  But  he  was 
older  and  more  reasonable  than  Tom,  and  she  had 
her  little  argument  ready  for  him. 

"  Of  course  you  will  give  him  something  to  eat," 
she  said.  "  You  wouldn't  wish  to  be  cruel  to  him  if 
he  was  the  worst  person  in  the  world ;  and  anybody 
can  see  he  isn't  that.  He  isn't  so  old  as  Charley  ;  I 
don't  believe  he  is  much  older  than  I  am !  How 
absurd,  to  keep  him  tied  in  the  wagon  there,  as  if 
you  were  afraid  of  him  ;  afraid  he  will  knock  you  all 


138  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

down,  I  suppose,  and  get  away  from  you  —  three 
great  boys  like  my  big  brothers  !  " 

Lon  scowled  again,  but  finally  responded,  rather 
ungraciously  :  — 

"  I'm  not  afraid  !  I  don't  care  ;  only  it  will  waste 
a  little  time.  We  can  just  as  well  watch  him  in 
here  as  out  there." 

Kit  was  accordingly  brought  into  the  kitchen ; 
where,  seeing  Elsie  again,  he  bashfully  begged  for 
permission  to  wash  himself  at  the  sink,  after  Charley 
had  got  through  with  the  basin. 

"  Of  course  you  can  ! "  cried  Elsie,  hastening  to 
fill  it  with  fresh  water,  while  Lon  reluctantly  untied 
the  prisoner's  hands. 

As  he  could  not  very  well  eat  with  them  tied 
again,  Tom  thought  they  ought,  at  least,  to  bind  his 
legs,  and  perhaps  make  him  fast  to  the  chair  he  sat 
on  at  table.  But  Elsie  treated  this  proposal  with 
merry  scorn. 

"  What  are  you  three  great  boys  thinking  of  ? " 
she  whispered,  behind  Kit's  back,  as  he  bent  over 
the  wash  basin.  "  I  believe  /  could  keep  him  from 
running  away,  without  help  from  either  of  you  ! " 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  the  tricks  of  these 
rogues,"  replied  Lon,  who,  however,  relaxed  his  vigil- 
ance sufficiently  to  let  the  prisoner  sit  unlashed  at 


"  KJsiij  could  uot  keep  her  eyes  away  trom  the  prisoner."    Page  134. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  139 

the  kitchen  table,  where  the  brothers  could  watch 
him  through  the  open  door,  from  their  places  in  the 
next  room.  They  were  ready  to  start  up  and  spring 
upon  him  at  the  first  movement  he  might  make  to 
escape  ;  and  Lon  had  a  stout  cane  within  reach. 

Elsie  went  to  and  fro  between  the  rooms,  perform- 
ing the  office  of  table-girl  with  graceful  alacrity ; 
but  stood,  at  last,  watching,  with  almost  fascinated 
eyes,  the  captive  as  he  ate,  or  tried  to  eat. 

A  little  soap  and  water,  and  a  careless  brushing 
back  of  the  hair  from  the  forehead  with  his  wet  fin- 
gers, had  wonderfully  improved  Kit's  appearance. 
He  had  a  full,  fair  brow,  a  good  nose,  a  chin  with  an 
interesting  dimple,  and  ruddy,  brown  cheeks,  which 
were  blushing  again  with  uneasy  consciousness  of  a 
pure  girl's  searching  gaze.  He  kept  his  eyes  down- 
cast, but  she  could  see  that  they  were  full  of  gentle 
expression  ;  and  his  sensitive  lips  were  quivering  in 
a  way  that  excited  her  sympathy. 

"  You  don't  look  like  such  a  person  ! "  she  said, 
impulsively. 

He  forgot  his  bashfulness  in  a  moment,  and  raised 
his  eyes  to  her  face  with  a  look  in  which  there  was  a 
gleam  of  proud  defiance. 

"  Don't  I  ? "  he  said.  "  Well,  I  am  about  as  much 
such  a  person  as  your  brothers  are  brigands!  " 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

ELSIE    AND   THE    CAPTIVE. 

BENTING  was  thrilled  with  something 
deeper  than  surprise  by  the  expression  of  Kit'c 
face  and  the  tone  of  his  voice. 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  took  their  horse,"  he  said,  "and  now  they  have 
taken  me.  It's  a  mistake  on  both  sides.  I  took  the 
horse  by  mistake,  and  they  have  taken  me  by  mis- 
take, while  I  was  on  my  way  with  him  to  Peaceville." 

And  his  eyes  beamed  upon  her  with  convincing 
candor. 

"  How  could  you  ever  make  such  a  mistake  as 
that  ? "  she  exclaimed,  trying  to  remain  incredulous, 
while  her  heart  felt  the  earnest  truthfulness  which 
inspired  such  looks  and  tones. 

"  My  uncle's  horse  had  been  stolen  the  night  be- 
fore, and  I  found  him  in  one  of  the  sheds  at  the 
cattle-show.  I  left  a  fellow  to  watch  him  —  a  scamp 
named  Brunlow ;  I  ought  to  have  known  better,  but 
he  used  to  work  for  my  father,  and  he  appeared  so 
friendly  I  thought  I  could  trust  him.  I  went  to  get 

MO 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  14! 

something  to  eat,  and  when  I  came  back  he  put  me 
on  the  horse  in  the  next  shed,  which  he  had  saddled 
and  bridled,  instead  of  mine.  It  was  pretty  dark  ; 
both  horses  are  of  about  the  same  color ;  and  I  rode 
off  in  such  a  hurry  I  never  noticed  the  difference 
until  I  got  home.  I  think  now  it  was  he  who  had 
stolen  our  horse,  and  that  he  played  the  trick,  know- 
ing just  what  sort  of  a  blunderhead  I  am  !" 

"  You  a  blunderhead  ?"  said  Elsie,  with  a  smile  at 
his  eager,  intelligent  face. 

He  could  not  help  smiling  in  return,  rather  rue- 
fully, however. 

"  Don't  what  I  tell  you  prove  it  ?  If  you  had  put 
me  on  the  race-course  there  yesterday,  and  picked 
out  the  champion  blunderers  of  America  to  match  me, 
I  should  have  come  out  several  lengths  ahead. 
That's  what  my  uncle  thinks,  at  any  rate ;  and  no 
wonder ! " 

"  The  man  you  speak  of  must  be  the  one  who 
claimed  you  had  stolen  his  saddle  and  bridle,"  said 
Elsie. 

"  Oh !  the  scoundrel ! "  exclaimed  Kit.  "  Did  he 
claim  that  ? "  And  he  described  Brunlow's  appear- 
ance. 

"The  very  same !  "  said  Elsie.  "  I  knew  he  was  a 
rogue,  by  the  way  he  talked  —  so  smooth  and  plausi- 


142  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

ble  !  And  my  brothers  were  afterward  convinced  of 
it." 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  caught !  "  said  Kit. 

"  Caught  ?  "  said  Elsie. 

She  had  sat  down  in  the  chair  opposite,  and  they 
were  now  conversing  face  to  face,  across  the  table. 

"  Your  brothers  said  he  was,"  replied  Kit.  "  And 
they  said  he  had  owned  up  everything  —  as  if  he  and 
I  had  been  stealing  horses  together ! " 

"That's  what  they  inferred;  and  it  certainly 
looked  as  if  you  were  in  company  with  him,"  said 
Elsie.  "  But  this  is  the  first  I  have  heard  of  his 
being  caught." 

"  See  here,  Elsie ! "  called  Tom,  from  the  other 
room.  When  she  appeared  in  the  door-way,  he 
beckoned  her  to  come  nearer,  and  whispered,  "  What 
are  you  talking  with  that  fellow  for  ?  He's  fibbing 
to  you,  every  word  he  says." 

"I  am  afraid  somebody  has  been  fibbing  to  him," 
she  replied,  with  a  quiet  sparkle  in  her  moist  eyes. 
"  You  never  told  us  at  home  here  of  that  fellow's 
being  caught." 

"  Of  course,  that's  bosh,"  said  Tom.  "  I  thought 
I  might  frighten  this  one  into  owning  up,  if  I  told 
him  the  other  one  had." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  has  anything  more  to  own  up 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  143 

to  than  what  he  has  been  telling  me,"  said  Elsie. 
"  You  heard  it  ? " 

"Yes,"  Tom  answered,  carelessly;  "and  it's  noth- 
ing new.  He  tried  the  story  on  us  before  ;  but  when 
we  catch  a  thief  in  the  very  act  of  riding  off  our 
horse,  we  are  not  to  be  fooled  by  any  such  pretence ; 
are  we,  Lon  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  are  not,  are  you  ? "  she  replied,  with 
keen  satire.  "  Who  was  fooled  last  night  by  the 
other  one,  as  you  call  him  ?  And  who  was  the  first  to 
see  through  him  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  you  were  right,  in  his  case,"  Tom 
admitted. 

"  So  am  I  right  now,"  she  averred.  "  I  am  just  as 
sure  this  boy  is  honest  as  I  was  that  that  man  was  a 
rogue." 

"  He  may  be,"  said  Lon,  shoving  his  chair  back  from 
the  table.  "  But  his  saying  so  don't  make  him  so." 

"  His  being  so  makes  him  so ;  and  that's  what  I 
see,"  Elsie  insisted,  in  a  voice  loud  enough  for  Kit  to 
hear  in  the  next  room.  "  Talk  about  his  surly,  hang- 
dog look,  Tom !  He  has  as  open,  honest  a  face  as 
you  have ;  and  you  can't  wonder  that  he  appeared  a 
little  surly,  after  your  treatment  of  him.  How  would 
you  look  in  his  place,  do  you  suppose?  Not  very 
angelic,  I  imagine." 


144  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  How  could  we  treat  him  any  differently  ?  "  Tom 
asked.  "  If  you  are  going  to  take  every  rogue's  ex- 
planation for  gospel  truth,  when  he  is  caught,  few,  I 
fancy,  would  be  brought  to  justice." 

"  That's  so  !  "  said  Charley. 

"  Come,  boys,"  said  Lon,  not  deeming  it  worth 
while  to  argue  the  matter  further.  "  You  never  can 
tell  anything  by  what  a  rogue  says.  There's  only 
one  thing  you  can  rely  upon ;  and  that's  evidence. 
If  his  story  is  true,  he'll  have  a  chance  to  prove  it." 

He  had  risen  from  the  table  ;  his  brothers  followed 
his  example. 

"  I've  no  doubt  but  he  will  be  able  to  prove  it,"  Elsie 
persisted  in  saying.  "But  think  what  he  may  have 
to  surfer  first !  You  won't  put  him  in  jail,  will  you  ?" 

"  That  will  depend  on  the  judge,  not  on  us  at  all," 
said  Lon.  "We  have  no  right  to  keep  him  a 
prisoner  here,  at  any  rate,  any  longer  than  is  neces- 
sary." 

"  Wait,  at  least,  until  father  comes  home  !  "  Elsie 
was  fairly  pleading  Kit's  cause  by  this  time. 

"  We  shall  probably  meet  him  on  the  way,"  replied 
Lon. 

"  He  hasn't  eaten  anything  yet." 

"That's  his  own  fault,"  said  Tom.  "He  might 
have  been  eating  when  he  was  telling  you  fibs." 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  145 

"  Promise,  at  any  rate,  that  you  won't  tie  his 
hands  again." 

"We  won't  tie  him  if  he  behaves  himself,"  said 
Lon.  "  Come,  my  boy ! "  laying  his  hand  on  Kit's 
shoulder. 

Kit  rose  with  a  fluttering  heart. 

"  I  don't  suppose  there's  any  use  of  my  telling  you 
again  what  I've  told  you  before,"  he  said,  indulging 
a  faint  hope  that  Elsie's  intercession  might  have 
changed  her  brothers'  intentions  toward  him. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  use,"  Lon  answered,  kindly  enough, 
but  firmly.  "We'll  give  you  a  chance  to  tell  it  to 
the  judge  ;  that's  all  we  can  do." 

"  Well !  you  have  been  good  to  me ! "  said  Kit,  his 
voice  quivering,  and  his  eyes  glistening,  as  he  turned 
a  grateful  look  on  Elsie.  "  Some  time,"  he  added, 
choking  a  little,  then  resolutely  mastering  the  pas- 
sion that  swelled  his  heart,  "  you'll  know  that  what  I 
have  told  you  is  true,  and  then  you  won't  be  sorry 
you  took  my  part." 

"I  know  it  well  enough  now,"  she  replied,  as 
Lon  led  him  away ;  "  but  don't  blame  my  brothers 
too  much." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  blame  them  !  " 

Kit  mounted  to  the  wagon-seat  with  Lon  and 
Tom,  and  as  he  rode  away  amid  the  tall  trunks  of 


146  HIS  ONE   FAULT. 

the  sunlit  grove,  he  took  off  his  base-ball  cap  to 
her,  in  a  bar  of  the  golden  light ;  a  smile  of  tender 
brightness  suddenly  irradiating  his  anxious  face,  as 
he  looked  back  at  her,  while  his  iips  shaped  an 
inaudible  — 
"Good-by!" 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

"A  PERFECTLY  CLEAR  CASE." 

rf>HAT  last  smile  of  the  captive  lingered  long  in 
"*•  the  mind's  eye  of  Elsie  Benting,  standing  in 
the  door  of  the  old  farm-house,  while  the  wagon  that 
bore  him  with  Lon  and  Tom,  and  Charley  on 
horseback,  disappeared  up  the  road  beyond  the 
grove. 

She  hoped  they  would  meet  her  father  before 
reaching  the  magistrate's  office,  and  that  he  also 
would  be  quickly  convinced  of  Kit's  innocence. 
But  when  they  had  been  gone  about  half  an  hour, 
Mr.  Benting  returned  home,  with  her  mother,  by 
another  street. 

They  had  seen  nothing  of  the  boys ;  and  now 
Elsie  had  the  surprising  news  to  relate  of  their 
finding  the  horse,  and  stopping  at  home  on  their 
way  to  Duckford  village  with  the  little  rider  in  the 
white  cap. 

"  But  he's  no  more  a  horse-thief  than  I  am  !  "  she 
asserted.  "He  is  just  a  bashful  boy.  You  should 
have  seen  how  he  blushed  when  I  was  talking  to 

147 


148  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

him  !  It's  a  strange  story  he  tells,  but  I  believe 
every  word  of  it." 

Mr.  Benting,  a  tall  man  with  white  whiskers, 
and  exceedingly  pleasant  eyes  peering  out  from 
under  bushy  gray  brows,  stood  by  his  buggy  wheel 
at  the  door,  looking  down  with  a  sort  of  humorous 
interest  at  the  young  girl,  as  she  told,  with  no  little 
dramatic  effect,  the  story  of  the  supposed  horse-thief. 

"And  I  think  it  is  too  bad,  too  cruel,"  she  said, 
at  the  end,  "  that  that  poor  boy  should  have  to  go  to 
jail." 

"It  would  be  too  bad,  truly,"  Mr.  Benting  replied, 
laying  his  hand  fondly  on  her  shoulder,  "  if  he  is  as 
innocent  as  you  suppose.  But  it  isn't  a  very 
probable  story,  Elsie.  Now  do  you  think  it  is  ? 
Consider  a  minute." 

"  But  while  we  are  considering,"  said  Elsie,  "  they 
are  putting  him  in  jail !  " 

"  That's  most  likely  where  he  belongs,  I'm  sorry 
to  say,"  replied  her  father,  with  quiet  good  humor, 
curiously  in  contrast  with  her  excitement.  "  It's 
just  such  a  story  as  every  rogue  has  at  his  tongue's 
end  to  explain  away  his  roguery  when  he  gets 
caught  in  it." 

"  I  wish  we  had  been  at  home,"  said  Mrs.  Bent- 
ing, as  he  helped  her  from  the  buggy. 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  149 

"  So  do  I ;  for,  after  all,  Elsie  may  be  right.  She 
is  pretty  shrewd  in  her  judgments  of  people.  And 
I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do,  little  girl,  to 
please  you."  The  paternal  mouth  puckered  in  a 
playful,  affectionate  smile.  "I  am  going  to  drive 
after  the  boys  and  see  that  they  have  made  no  mis- 
take." 

"  Oh,  what  a  dear,  delightful  old  papa ! "  Elsie 
cried,  joyfully,  putting  up  her  face  to  kiss  him. 

"  You'll  have  dinner  first,  won't  you  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Benting. 

"  Shall  I  ?  "  He  gave  a  sidelong,  teasing  look  at 
Elsie.  "Well,  never  mind  about  dinner  for  me  till 
I  come  back.  I  think  I  shall  know,  when  I  see  the 
fellow,  how  big  a  rascal  he  is.  Though  I  warn  you 
at  the  outset,  little  one,  that  the  boys  are  probably 
right  about  him." 

Mounting  the  buggy  as  he  spoke,  he  wheeled 
about  among  the  trees,  and  disappeared  up  the 
dusty  road. 

The  hour  Elsie  had  to  wait  for  his  return  seemed 
interminable.  But  at  last,  going  out  for  the 
twentieth  time  to  take  a  peep  from  under  the 
maples,  she  saw  the  buggy  and  the  wagon  coming, 
with  Charley  on  General  galloping  before. 

Her  father  was  alone  in  the  buggy,  but  Lon  and 


I5O  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

Tom  were  in  the  wagon.  Where,  then,  was  the 
youthful  prisoner  whom  she  had  confidently  ex- 
pected to  see  return  with  them  ? 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  cried  Charley,  turning 
up  under  the  trees.  "The  idea  of  your  taking  the 
part  of  a  fellow  like  that  !  " 

Her  face,  bright  at  first  with  expectation,  had 
assumed  a  shade  of  doubt,  which  now  deepened  to 
disappointment  and  dismay. 

"Now,  Charley,"  she  remonstrated,  "don't  say 
that !  What  have  you  done  with  him  ?  " 

"Ask  father,"  replied  Charley.  "He'll  tell  you 
he  had  only  to  look  at  him  to  be  perfectly  sure  of 
the  kind  of  character  he  is." 

"Don't  tell  me,  Charles  Benting,"  exclaimed  his 
sister,  "  that  father  thought  as  badly  of  him  as  you 
boys  did  ;  I  never  will  believe  it !  " 

"  He  does  think  of  him  just  as  badly  as  we  do,"  he 
insisted,  with  a  change  of  tense  which  she  failed  to 
notice.  "  And  the  judge  —  " 

As  he  slipped  off  the  horse,  he  was  careful  to  turn 
his  face,  in  which  was  a  struggling  smile  he  did  not 
wish  her  to  see. 

"What  did  he  say?"  she  demanded. 

"  He  said  it  was  a  perfectly  clear  case.  Stolen 
horse  found  in  the  possession  of  the  boy  that  was 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  15 1 

seen  to  take  him  and  ride  him  away  —  there  was 
only  one  thing  to  be  done  about  it." 

"  What  was  that  ? " 

"Commit  him  to  jail,  of  course." 

"  Oh  !  he  didn't !  "  said  the  indignant  Elsie. 

"  Yes  he  did  ;  sober  truth  !  "  Charley  insisted. 
"  Ask  the  boys  ;  ask  father.  Say,  boys,"  —  to  Lon 
and  Tom,  just  then  driving  up,  — "  didn't  the 
judge  say  it  was  a  clear  case,  and  that  he  must  go  to 
jail  ?  And  doesn't  father  think  of  him  just  as  we 
do  ?  She  won't  believe  a  word  I  say  ! " 

Lon  and  Tom  were  laughing.  Mr.  Benting's 
face  likewise  wore  a  good-humored  smile  as  he 
drove  up  and  heard  the  controversy.  Getting  no 
satisfaction  from  her  brothers,  she  appealed  to 
him. 

"Well,  yes,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "I  think  my 
opinion  of  that  boy  is  about  the  same  as  theirs. 
And  the  judge  did  commit  him  to  jail.  Charles  has 
told  you  nothing  but  the  truth  ;  but  he  hasn't  told 
you  quite  all  the  truth.  What  do  you  want  to 
bother  your  sister  so  for,  Charles  ? "  he  added,  in  a 
tone  of  not  very  severe  reproof. 

"To  punish  her  for  crowing  over  us,  as  she  will 
when  she  hears  the  rest,"  Charles  made  answer. 

"  Oh,  tell  me,  father ! "  cried  the  eager  Elsie. 


152  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

And  he  told  briefly  what  it  is  now  time  for  us  to 
relate  a  little  more  in  detail. 

The  boys,  finding  they  had  missed  their  father  on 
the  way  to  the  village,  proceeded  to  the  office  of 
the  Duckford  justice,  whom  they  had  the  luck  to 
catch  as  he  was  going  out  to  dinner.  Charley  rode 
on  to  find  a  constable,  while  Lon  and  Tom  went  in 
and  made  oath  to  their  complaint  against  the 
prisoner. 

It  seemed,  indeed,  a  perfectly  clear  case ;  and  the 
magistrate  was  impatient  to  sniff  the  odors  of  the 
roast  beef  which  he  knew  was  just  then  coming  out 
of  the  home  oven.  He  gave  little  heed  and  less 
credence  to  the  boy's  story ;  but  promised  that  he 
should  have  ample  opportunity  to  bring  proof  of  it 
at  the  hearing  which  he  appointed  for  the  following 
day. 

"  Suppose  I  can't  get  my  friends  here  by  that 
time?"  queried  Kit. 

"The  hearing  may  be  postponed,  in  that  case. 
You  can  employ  counsel,  and  the  court  will  do  every- 
thing for  you  that  is  deemed  necessary  and  proper." 

With  these  words  the  judge  rose  from  his  seat, 
putting  on  his  hat ;  and  Kit,  for  want  of  bail,  was 
marched  out  in  charge  of  the  constable. 

He  was  thinking  miserably  of  the  strait  to  which 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  153 

his  blundering  had  brought  him  at  last ;  the  deg- 
radation of  being  put  into  the  lock-up ;  the  expense 
of  a  lawyer ;  the  difficulty  of  getting  Uncle  Gray  or 
anybody  else  to  come  and  testify  in  his  behalf ;  the 
distress  of  his  widowed  mother,  and  the  amusement 
or  disgust  of  enemies  and  friends,  when  they  should 
hear  of  his  predicament  ;  with  all  the  wretchedness 
of  uncertainty  and  delay  in  the  disentanglement  of 
this  dreadful  snarl  he  had  got  himself  into ;  he  was 
thinking  of  all  this  as  he  walked  away  with  the  offi- 
cer, when  a  voice  called  out :  — 

"  Wait  a  minute ! " 

It  was  the  voice  of  Lon  Benting. 

Lon  and  his  brothers  had  had  time  to  cool  off, 
after  the  first  flush  of  victory ;  and  Elsie's  more 
favorable  opinion  of  the  prisoner  was  beginning  to 
influence  them.  Then  Kit's  straightforward  recital 
of  his  story  to  the  judge,  without  contradiction  of 
his  previous  statements  in  the  least  particular,  shook 
their  boyish  self-confidence,  and  caused  them  to  look 
furtively  at  one  another,  with  misgivings  which  each 
tried  to  conceal. 

In  short,  the  more  they  saw  of  Kit,  the  less  they 
saw  of  the  villain  circumstance  and  prejudice  had 
made  him  appear.  It  was  not  half  the  satisfaction 
they  had  anticipated,  to  see  him  led  away  to  the 


154  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

lock-up.  Lon  and  Tom,  especially,  were  feeling  the 
weight  of  their  responsibility  in  the  doubtful  busi- 
ness, when  they  were  vastly  relieved  at  sight  of  a 
well  known  buggy  coming  down  the  street. 

"It's  father  !  "  Tom  said  to  the  justice,  just  then 
hurrying  off  to  his  dinner.  "  He  will  want  to  see 
you." 

Mr.  Benting  being  a  citizen  whom  everybody  was 
glad  to  oblige,  the  magistrate  paused  reluctantly,  and 
stood  by  his  door  while  the  buggy  turned  up  to  it. 
The  officer  also  stopped,  a  few  paces  off,  with  his 
prisoner.  There  were  a  few  spectators,  who  had 
witnessed  the  scene  in  the  office,  and  more  were 
gathering ;  men  walking  leisurely  across  the 
street,  and  boys  in  the  distance  running  and 
shrieking. 

"  What's  going  on  here  ?  "  said  Mr.  Benting,  draw- 
ing rein.  "  You've  got  General,  I  see,  boys ! "  ey- 
ing the  horse  with  satisfaction.  "  And  the  rogue  — 
is  that  the  rogue?"  peering  out  from  under  his 
bushy  gray  brows  at  the  little  captive. 

"  All  we  know  is,  we  caught  him  riding  our  horse 
away,"  said  Tom. 

"How  much  of  a  rogue  he  is,"  added  Lon9 
"  remains  to  be  proved." 

Kit  could  not  help  noticing  the  changed  manner 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  1 55 

toward  him  of  Elsie's  big,  obstinate  brothers. 
Very  different  now  the  tone,  which  had  been  so 
boisterous,  and  the  judgment,  which  had  been  so 
stern. 

"  How  is  it,  judge  ? "  Mr.  Benting  inquired. 

"  There  seemed  abundant  evidence  to  justify  a 
commitment,"  the  judge  explained. 

Mr.  Benting  alighted  from  his  buggy,  and 
stood  looking  down  searchingly  at  the  miserable 
youngster. 

Conscious  of  the  scrutiny,  and  aware  of  many 
eyes  fixed  upon  him,  looking  for  signs  of  guilt  in  his 
burning  face,  poor  Kit  was  very  much  abashed.  His 
head  was  hot,  his  temples  were  throbbing,  his  cheeks 
on  fire ;  and  to  save  his  soul  he  could  not  have  kept 
his  suffused  eyes  from  falling  before  Mr.  Benting' s. 
First  they  dropped  from  that  gentleman's  eyes  to  his 
white  whiskers ;  then  went  down  his  coat-front,  but- 
ton by  button;  switched  off  on  the  right  leg,  de- 
scended that  to  the  boot,  and  so  glided  to  the 
ground. 

The  very  necessity  he  felt  of  standing  up  stoutly, 
and  answering  the  gaze  of  Elsie's  father  with  an  air 
of  open  innocence,  helped  to  betray  him  into  this 
appearance  of  guilt.  He  was  angry  with  himself,  for 
bis  blushes  and  weak  eyes ;  and  with  quick,  fierce 


156  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

breath,  and  teeth  set  hard,  struggled  to  regain  his 
self-control. 

"  Come ! "  said  Mr.  Benting,  eying  him  with  an 
expression  of  keen  curiosity,  tempered  by  humorous 
compassion,  "  tell  me  frankly  just  how  much  of  a 
rogue  you  are." 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

KIT   AND    MR.  BENTING. 

'"PHEN  Kit  looked  up.  He  was  himself  again. 
•^  "  I'm  not  used  to  being  called  a  rogue,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "and  I  can't  answer  such  a  question  as  that." 

"  But  they  say  you  were  taken  riding  away  my 
horse,"  said  Mr.  Benting.  "  How  do  you  account 
for  that  ? " 

"I've  explained  five  or  six  times  already  how  that 
happened,"  said  Kit.  "  But  I'll  explain  some  more, 
and  be  glad  to,  if  it  will  do  any  good." 

Mr.  Benting  turned  to  the  judge. 

"  This  is  hardly  the  place  to  talk  with  him  ;  and, 
if  you've  no  objection,  I'd  like  to  see  him  a  few  min- 
utes in  your  office." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  judge,  with  a  despairing 
thought  of  his  dinner.  And  entering  with  Kit  and 
the  constable,  Mr.  Benting  and  Lon  and  Tom,  he 
closed  the  door  and  shut  out  the  crowd. 

There  Mr.  Benting  sat  down  in  a  leather-cush- 
ioned chair,  and,  crossing  his  legs,  which  were  rather 

»57 


158  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

long,  questioned,  in  a  kindly  but  searching  manner, 
Kit  standing  before  him,  still  flushed,  but  resolute. 

"  I've  heard  something  of  your  story,  and  I  must 
say  it  hasn't  seemed  to  me  very  probable.  But  it 
may  be  true,  for  all  that.  '  Fact  stranger  than 
fiction,'  is  an  old  saying,  and  a  true  saying.  Where 
did  you  mount  my  horse,  when  you  mistook  him  for 
your  uncle's  ?  " 

"  Under  one  of  the  cattle-sheds  at  the  fair,"  said 
Kit. 

"  As  I  remember  them,  these  sheds  are  very  low- 
roofed.  I  shouldn't  have  thought  you  could  mount 
very  comfortably  under  them." 

"  I  couldn't  ;  I  had  to  stoop.  I  hit  my  head  as  it 
was."  Kit's  voice  was  growing  steady,  his  counte- 
nance more  and  more  open,  and  now  something  like 
a  smile  lighted  it  up  as  he  added :  "  I  remember 
how  the  oyster-crackers  spilled  out  of  my  breast- 
pockets as  I  leaned  over  on  the  horse's  neck." 

"  We  found  oyster-crackers  scattered  on  the 
ground,"  said  Lon,  willing  to  corroborate  this  part 
of  the  boy's  story. 

"  Why  didn't  you  lead  the  horse  out  before  you 
mounted?"  Mr.  Benting  inquired.  "It  seems  to 
me  that  would  have  been  the  most  natural  thing  to 
do." 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  1 59 

"  So  it  would.  But  the  fellow  who  helped  me  off 
had  arranged  everything.  He  did  all  he  could  to 
confuse  me,  and  then  boosted  me  on  the  horse  and 
hurried  me  off  before  I  could  see  through  his  trick. 
Of  course,"  Kit  added,  with  beaming  candor,  "  if  he 
had  let  me  lead  the  horse  out  from  under  the  dark 
shed,  I  should  have  noticed  the  difference  between 
him  and  our  Dandy." 

"  Is  Dandy  the  name  of  your  horse  ?" 

"  Yes ;  Dandy  Jim.  It's  the  name  he  had  when 
my  uncle  bought  him."  Kit  smiled  again.  "  I  don't 
suppose  my  uncle  would  have  given  a  horse  such  a 
name  as  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  can  hardly  explain.  Only  Uncle  Gray  isn't  the 
kind  of  man  to  think  of  that  kind  of  name." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ? " 

"  Rather  serious ;  what  you  would  call  a  practical 
man ;  not  much  nonsense  about  him." 

"It  strikes  me,"  remarked  Mr.  Benting,  "that 
such  a  man  —  a  practical  man,  as  you  call  him  — 
would  have  managed  this  affair  a  little  differently 
when  he  found  that  a  boy  acting  for  him  had  brought 
home  the  wrong  horse.  I  can  hardly  conceive  of  his 
letting  you  come  alone  to  return  him." 

"  He  would  have  come  himself,  —  he  spoke  of  it,  — 


T6O  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

but  he  was  sick  this  morning.  And  as  I  had  mada 
the  blunder,  I  thought  I  ought  to  correct  it." 

"  What's  his  ailment  ? " 

A  peculiarly  bright  look  flashed  out  of  Kit's  eyes 
as  he  answered,  using  the  flat  vernacular  pronuncia- 
tion of  the  word  :  — 

"Azmy.  That's  what  uncle  and  aunt  call  it.  He 
got  chilled  when  he  went  out  in  the  damp  air  to  look 
at  the  horse  last  night,  and  this  morning  he  had 
several  bumble-bees'  nests  in  his  throat." 

"  What  does  he  do  for  his  asthma  ? "  Mr.  Benting 
inquired. 

"  He  shuts  himself  up  in  his  room,  and  burns  an 
herb  that  has  been  steeped  in  saltpetre.  The  smoke 
would  kill  me  "  —  Kit  smiled  again  —  "  but  he  thinks 
it  cures  him." 

Mr.  Benting  had  several  more  questions  to  ask 
about  the  uncle  and  aunt,  and  the  farm,  and  Kit's 
father  and  mother;  to  all  which  he  received  such 
prompt  and  natural  replies,  often  spiced  with  humor, 
that  he  was  forced  to  conclude  that  so  much,  at  least, 
of  the  boy's  story  was  not  all  fiction.  He  then 
wished  to  know  why  Kit,  who  claimed  to  have  been 
on  his  way  to  Peaceville  when  captured,  was  first 
seen  riding  in  the  other  direction.  That  brought  out 
the  story  of  the  knife,  which  Mr.  Benting  asked  to 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  l6l 

see.  Examining  it,  he  found  the  letters  C.  D.  en- 
graved on  the  handle. 

"Are  these  your  initials  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Kit,  who  had  already  told  his 
name,  first  to  the  Benting  boys,  then  to  the  judge, 
and  lastly  to  Mr.  Benting  himself.  "  They  were  my 
father's  initials,  too  ;  the  knife  used  to  belong  to 
him.  I  thought  more  of  it  for  that  reason  ;  I  never 
supposed  it  would  be  the  means  of  getting  me  into  a 
scrape  ! " 

Mr.  Benting  gave  back  the  knife ;  then  turned  to 
the  judge. 

"  I  believe  this  is  an  honest  boy,  and  if  you  will  fix 
his  bail  at  a  reasonable  figure,  I  will  be  his  surety." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  judge,  perhaps 
almost  as  much  on  Kit's  account  as  out  of  regard  for 
his  dinner. 

A  bond  was  quickly  filled  out  and  duly  signed  ; 
and  Kit,  to  his  great  joy,  was  declared  free  to  pro- 
ceed about  his  business  until  his  presence  should  be 
again  required  by  the  court. 

"  Now,  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Mr.  Bent- 
ing, "is  to  go  home  with  me  and  stay  till  you  get 
over  your  fatigue  and  worry.  I'll  promise  you  better 
treatment  than  you  have  received  from  my  boys 
hitherto." 


1 62  HIS  ONE   FAULT. 

Kit  thought  of  Elsie  and  the  charming  old  farm- 
house at  Maple  Park  with  a  thrill  of  pleasant  antici- 
pation. But  the  gleam  that  crossed  his  face  was 
quickly  succeeded  by  shadow. 

"  I  should  like  to,"  he  replied.  "  But  I  must  make 
one  more  attempt  to  find  my  uncle's  horse,  the  first 
thing  I  do." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  work  ? " 

"I  shall  go  to  Peaceville,  where  I  certainly  saw 
him  yesterday,  and  try  to  trace  him  from  there.  If 
your  sons,"  Kit  added,  with  a  glance  at  Lon,  "  will 
tell  me  all  they  found  out  about  the  fellow  they  took 
to  be  my  accomplice,  and  the  horse  he  had,  which 
was  our  Dandy,  they  may  help  me  now  as  much  as 
they  have  hindered  me." 

The  oldest  of  the  brothers  thereupon  endeavored 
to  atone  for  the  unintentional  wrong  they  had  done 
their  late  captive,  by  giving  a  true  account  of  their 
adventure  with  Brunlow  the  night  before. 

"  After  we  heard  that  he  and  you  had  been  seen 
together,  we  believed  he  was  aiding  and  abetting 
you  ;  but  we  didn't  follow  him  up.  We  left  that  for 
a  policeman  to  do,  while  we  made  haste  to  hire 
another  horse  and  get  on  the  track  of  ours.  The 
last  we  saw  of  your  man  he  was  going  off  in  a  buggy 
with  the  driver,  who  had  bought  your  horse,  leading 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  163 

him  by  a  halter ;  to  make  a  bill  of  sale  of  him  some- 
where, they  said." 

Kit  took  the  name  of  the  policeman,  who,  he  was 
told,  would  probably  be  on  duty  that  afternoon,  near 
the  fair-ground  entrance.  He  also  asked  if  Mr.  Bent- 
ing  would  have  any  objection  to  giving  him  a  line, 
over  his  signature,  stating  that  his  horse,  supposed  to 
be  stolen,  had  been  returned,  having  been  taken  by 
mistake. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  such  a  writing  as  that  ? " 
Mr.  Benting  asked,  more  and  more  pleased  with  the 
boy's  modest  manners,  intelligence,  and  apparently 
honest  intentions. 

"  I  want  it  to  show,  if  there  should  be  any  danger 
of  my  being  taken  up  a  second  time  for  the  same  im- 
aginary offence,"  Kit  answered,  with  shrewd  good 
humor.  "  Your  policeman  will  probably  recognize 
me  before  I  'can  explain  myself ;  and  he  may 
clap  me  into  jail  without  believing  a  word  of  my 
story." 

"  I'll  make  that  all  right." 

Mr.  Benting  borrowed  the  judge's  pen  (the  judge 
had  already  escaped  and  gone  to  his  roast  beef),  and 
wrote  a  paper,  which  he  handed  Kit,  saying :  — 

"  There !  I  think  that  will  keep  you  out  of  any 
more  such  tangles.  I  hope  you  will  find  your  horse, 


164  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

and  give  us  a  call  on  your  way  back,  or  whenever  you 
come  this  way  again." 

He  gave  Kit  his  hand,  with  a  pressure  of  the  most 
cordial  interest  and  good  will.  Then  Tom  stepped 
up:  — 

"  There's  a  man  out  here  who  lives  two  or  three 
miles  away,  on  the  road  to  Peaceville.  He  is  just 
going  to  start  for  home,  and  I  think  he  will  give  this 
boy  a  ride.  Suppose  you  speak  to  him,  father." 

The  man,  appealed  to  by  the  elder  Benting,  readily 
consented  ;  and  Kit  climbed  into  his  wagon,  thankful 
enough  for  his  release  from  court  and  constable,  and 
for  this  piece  of  good  luck. 

The  brothers  said  good-by  to  him  in  quite  friendly 
fashion  ;  and  Lon  begged  his  pardon  for  what  he 
was  by  this  time  pretty  well  convinced  had  been  a 
blunder  on  their  part. 

"  It's  blunders  all  round ! "  laughed  Kit.  "  A 
fellow  that  can  make  'em  as  fast  as  I  do,  ought  not 
to  be  too  hard  on  others." 

Father  and  sons  stood  watching  him  as  he  rode 
away. 

"  If  we  hadn't  sent  your  hired  horse  back  to  Peace- 
ville this  morning,"  Mr.  Benting  remarked,  "  he 
might  have  had  him  to  ride.  It  would  have  been 
just  the  thing  for  him." 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  l6$ 

That  reminded  Lon  of  something. 

"  Ho  !  hallo  ! "  he  called  after  Kit.  "  How  about 
your  saddle  and  bridle  ? " 

Everybody  had  forgotten  these  until  that  moment. 

"  Keep  'em  till  I  come  for  them,"  Kit  answered, 
looking  back  regretfully  at  the  tall  farmer  standing 
with  his  sons,  and  remembering  the  invitation  he  had 
declined  —  an  invitation  which  might  have  taken 
him  back  to  Maple  Park  and  the  friendly  Elsie. 

So  they  returned  home  without  him,  and  Charley 
fooled  his  sister  with  half  the  truth,  as  we  have 
seen  ;  and  her  father  told  the  rest. 

"  The  judge  did  commit  him  to  jail,  my  dear  ;  but 
luckily  I  was  there  to  offer  bail  for  him  before  he 
was  locked  up.  And  it  is  true,  —  I  had  only  to  look 
at  him  to  see  the  kind  of  character  he  is.  But  it 
would  be  better  for  the  boys  to  say  they  have  come 
round  to  my  opinion,  than  that  I  think  as  they  do 
about  him.  They  think  very  differently  from  what 
they  did  at  first.  You  were  quite  right,  Elsie,  and 
they  were  quite  wrong,  or  I  am  no  judge  of  an  hon- 
est boy." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Benting  stepped  from  the  buggy. 

"  And  you  have  let  him  go  free  ? "  said  the 
delighted  Elsie. 

"  I  suppose  it  will  amount  to  that ;  although  he  is 


1 66  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

under  bonds  to  appear  again  if  the  court  wants 
him." 

"  Now  why  don't  you  crow  over  us,  Elsie  ? " 
laughed  Charley. 

But  Elsie,  too  deeply  grateful  for  Kit's  vindication 
and  release  to  think  of  her  own  triumph,  had  no  wish 
to  "crow." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MORE    BLUNDERS. 

~\7~  IT  was  by  this  time  well  on  his  way  to  Peace- 
•*•*•  ville ;  and  two  hours  later  he  might  have  been 
seen  entering  the  village,  walking  fast,  with  his  coat 
on  his  arm. 

It  was  not  the  road  by  which  he  had  entered  or 
left  it  the  day  before,  and  on  overtaking  a  little  bent 
old  man  he  inquired  the  way  to  the  fair-grounds. 

"Second  turn  to  the  left  brings  you  in  sight  of 
the  big  ox-yoke,"  said  the  little  bent  old  man,  whose 
gait  was  slow,  and  who  was  also  very  deaf. 

Kit  hurried  on,  shifting  the  coat  he  carried  from 
one  sweaty  arm  to  the  other,  and  was  just  turning 
the  corner  indicated,  when  the  little  old  man 
called  to  him,  far  back  on  the  road. 

"What  is  it  ?"  cried  Kit,  turning  and  gazing. 

The  little  old  man  made  an  odd  gesture,  and  came 
trudging  on,  with  his  head  down  again,  at  a  snail's 
pace,  as  it  seemed  to  the  hurrying  Christopher. 

"What  do  you  want?"  called  the  boy,  again,  at 
the  top  of  his  voice. 

"67 


1 68  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

But  the  little  bent  old  man  did  not  answer  nor 
look  up  again  ;  he  probably  did  not  hear. 

"  He  thinks  I  may  take  the  wrong  turn,"  thought 
the  boy.  "  But  I  can't  wait  for  him  to  come  up,  and 
I  won't  go  back." 

When  the  little  bent  old  man  finally  did  look  up, 
he  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  boy  had  vanished. 

"  Couldn't  he  wait  a  minute  ? "  he  said,  clinching 
his  right  hand  and  shaking  it,  while  leaning  with  his 
left  on  a  stout  cane.  "  Well !  it  is  of  no  conse- 
quence, I  suppose." 

Anxious,  and  not  very  hopeful,  Kit  came  in  sight 
of  the  great  ox-yoke  over  the  fair-ground  entrance, 
which  he  seemed  to  have  seen  in  some  past  stage  of 
existence,  —  so  long  ago,  and  so  like  a  dream, 
appeared  his  unlucky  adventures  of  the  day  before  ! 
Had  he  really  encountered  Brunlow  and  discovered 
Dandy  Jim  within  that  thronged  enclosure  ? 

He  had,  of  course,  no  expectation  of  finding  them 
there  now  ;  and  remembering  how  he  had  let  them 
slip  through  his  hands  when  every  circumstance 
was  in  his  favor,  he  thought  of  his  present  quest 
as  something  very  discouraging  indeed. 

The  same  gate-keeper  was  on  duty  of  whom  he 
had  made  inquiries  the  day  before.  He  regarded 
Kit  with  some  surprise. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  169 

"  Why ! "  said  he,  with  lively  interest,  "  you  are 
the  boy  in  the  white  cap  who  rode  off  the  Duckford 
horse  last  evening  !  " 

"I'm  the  very  boy,"  said  Kit,  putting  on  his  coat. 
."And  I  want  to  find  Mr.  Knowles,  the  policeman." 

"That  will  suit  all  round,"  said  the  gate-keeper; 
"  for  I've  no  doubt  Mr.  Knowles  will  be  glad  to  find 
you.  Knowles  !  "  he  called  out. 

The  same  officer  whose  acquaintance  Kit  had 
made  the  previous  afternoon  turned  away  from  the 
race-course,  round  which  the  same  trotters  Kit  had 
seen  then  (so  it  seemed  to  him)  were  raising  the 
same  cloud  of  dust ;  and  leisurely  approached  the 
entrance.  He  quickened  his  pace  on  seeing 
Kit,  whom  he  likewise  regarded  with  surprised 
curiosity. 

"  Where  did  you  pick  him  up  ? "  he  said,  to  the 
gate-keeper ;  and  stepping  quickly  forward,  he  took 
Kit  by  the  arm. 

"  He  asked  for  you,"  said  the  gate-keeper. 

"  Asked  for  me  ?  Well,  what  do  you  want  of  me, 
young  man  ? " 

Aware  that  he  was  viewed  with  suspicion,  Kit, 
though  prepared  for  the  occasion,  changed  color, 
and  stammered  out  :  — 

"  I  want  —  I  am  after  —  that  horse ! " 


I/O  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  What  horse  ?  The  one  you  stole,  or  the  one 
you  pretended  was  stolen,  or  some  other?"  added 
the  officer. 

"The  one  that  was  stolen  — "  began  Kit. 

"  Well,  I  think  you  can  tell  us  more  about  that 
than  anybody  else  can  !  Do  you  know,"  said  Mr. 
Knowles,  scrutinizing  him  sharply,  "  I  have  instruc- 
tions to  arrest  you  ?  You  act  as  if  you  weren't  aware 
of  the  fact,  but  you're  the  boy  that  took  the  Bent- 
ing  horse,  sure  as  you  live  !  " 

"Yes,  I  am,"  said  Kit.  He  smiled,  congratu- 
lating himself  on  his  foresight  in  providing  proof  of 
his  innocence  for  this  very  emergency.  "  I  took  the 
wrong  horse,  as  you  will  see,  by  mistake ;  I  will 
show  you."  He  fumbled  in  his  pockets.  "I  have  a 
paper  —  somewhere  —  " 

His  fumbling  became  hurried  and  nervous,  and  he 
suddenly  turned  pale. 

"What's  your  game?"  said  the  wondering  officer. 

"  I  have  a  paper,"  poor  Kit  repeated,  in  accents 
of  alarm  and  distress  —  "or  I  had  it  —  one  Mr.  Bent- 
ing  gave  me."  He  pulled  his  pockets  inside  out,  and 
stared  at  them  in  blank  dismay,  exclaiming,  "I've 
lost  it ! " 

"  What  sort  of  a  paper  was  it  ? "  Mr.  Knowles 
inquired. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  IJ?S 

"  A  sort  of  certificate,  saying  that  I  had  returned 
the  horse  which  I  had  taken  by  mistake,"  replied  Kit. 
"  Mr.  Benting  gave  it  to  me,  so  that  I  shouldn't  get 
into  trouble  on  that  account  while  trying  again  to 
find  my  uncle's  horse." 

The  officer  smiled  incredulously.  "  You're  a 
pretty  sharp  boy,"  he  said,  "  but  not  quite  sharp 
enough.  I  saw  through  your  tricks  yesterday,  when 
it  was  a  little  too  late  ;  but  I  think  I  see  through 
this  one  just  in  time.  There  are  no  more  horses  for 
you  to  ride  off  by  mistake  at  this  cattle-show,  and 
you  may  as  well  come  along  with  me." 

"  Do  you  think,"  cried  the  astonished  Christopher, 
"  that  if  I  had  stolen  a  horse  here  yesterday,  I  would 
be  back  here  inquiring  for  you  to-day  ? " 

"I  shouldn't  suppose  so,"  replied  the  officer; 
"but  you  seem  to  have  done  that  very  thing. 
Though  why  you  should  ask  for  me  —  a  policeman 
—  is  a  riddle  I  can't  guess." 

"  It  was  because  you  are  a  policeman,  and  I 
wanted  to  show  you  that  paper  and  get  your  help," 
protested  Christopher.  "  The  Benting  boys  said 
you  could  tell  me  if  the  man  had  been  heard  from 
who  sold  the  other  horse  —  my  uncle's  horse  —  the 
horse  I  am  looking  for ;  and  perhaps  you  would 
know  who  the  man  is  who  bought  him.  I  thought 


1/2  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

you  might  at  least  direct  me  to  the  grocery  where 
the  bill  of  sale  was  made  out." 

"I  can  do  that,"  said  Knowles,  "when  I'm  satis- 
fied you  are  telling  me  the  truth.  But  what  was 
you  telling  me  yesterday  ? " 

"  The  truth,"  declared  Christopher. 

"  It  didn't  appear  so,"  said  the  unbelieving  officer. 
"  If  I  was  ever  satisfied  of  anything,  it  was  that  you 
and  the  rogue  you  are  inquiring  for  were  accom- 
plices. He  and  you  had  been  seen  together,  to  all 
appearances,  on  friendly  terms  ;  and  I  have  positive 
evidence  that  he  helped  you  off  with  the  Benting 
horse." 

"He  did,"  said  Kit,  who  once  more  tried  to  ex- 
plain the  complication  to  unbelieving  ears.  Again 
he  searched  his  pockets  and  exclaimed,  almost  cry- 
ing with  vexation,  "  Oh,  if  I  only  had  that  paper !  I 
am  the  carelessest  fellow  ! " 

"  See  here,  my  fine  bird ! "  remarked  the  astute 
officer,  "  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  that  paper ; 
and  I  believe  it's  my  duty  to  hold  you  in  custody." 

A  small  crowd  had  gathered  about  them  by  this 
time.  Just  as  Knowles  was  marching  his  prisoner 
off,  up  trudged  the  little  bent  old  man. 

"  Here,  young  fellow,"  he  said  ;  "  is  this  yours  ? " 

And  once  more  he  reached  out  a  palsy-shaken  hand 


HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

The  trembling  fingers  relaxed,  and  disclosed  a 
crumpled  paper,  which  Kit  snatched  at  eagerly. 

"  That's  mine !  that's  it !  "  he  joyfully  exclaimed. 

"  Where  did  you  get  it,  Mr.  Graves  ? "  asked  the 
policeman,  in  a  loud  voice,  adapted  to  deaf  ears. 

"  Back  in  the  street,  here,"  said  the  little  old  man. 
"  I  thought  it  dropped  out  of  this  boy's  coat,  which 
he  had  on  his  arm  ;  and  I  called  to  him,  but  he  didn't 
seem  to  know  what  he  had  lost.  After  I  got  home, 
I  put  on  my  glasses  and  read  it,  and,  thinking  it 
might  be  important,  I  followed  him  up  here." 

"  You  have  done  me  a  great  favor,  and  I  can't  thank 
you  enough  for  it  ! "  said  Kit,  with  fervent  gratitude. 

He  handed  the  paper  to  the  policeman,  who  read 
as  follows  :  — 

To  all  whom  it  may  concern :  — 

This  is  to  certify  that  the  bearer,  Christopher  Downimede,  of 
East  Adam,  who  took  my  horse  from  the  Peaceville  Fair-Ground 
yesterday,  mistaking  him  for  one  belonging  to  his  uncle,  has  returned 
him  to  me  this  day  in  good  condition,  with  a  satisfactory  explanation 
of  the  circumstances.  And  I  hereby  cordially  commend  him  to  all 
good  citizens  generally,  and  especially  to  Mr.  Knowles,  the  officer  on 
duty  at  the  cattle-show,  who,  I  am  sure,  will  be  serving  a  good  cause 
by  assisting  him  in  his  search  for  his  uncle's  missing  horse. 

DAVID  BENTING,  of  Duckford. 

"  This  puts  a  new  face  on  the  matter,"  said  the 
policeman.  "  Lucky  for  you,  my  boy,  this  paper 
turned  up  in  time ! " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  As  I  carried  my  coat,"  Kit  explained,  "  the 
pocket  hung  down  over  my  arm  ;  I  never  thought 
of  what  was  in  it.  I  am  one  of  those  boys,"  he 
added,  with  a  cheerful  gleam  overspreading  his 
troubled  face,  "who  can  never  think  of  more  than 
one  thing  at  a  time  !  " 

"There's  no  great  harm  done  in  this  case,  thanks 
to  Mr.  Graves,  here,"  said  the  officer ;  "  though  I 
rather  think,  but  for  him,  I  should  have  had  to  lock 
you  up  till  the  Bentings  could  be  sent  for,  in  spite  of 
your  plausible  story  and  honest  face.  Now  let's  see 
what  can  be  done  for  you." 


CHAPTER   XX. 
ELI  BADGER'S  GRAPES. 

"T  WANT  to  find  my  uncle's  horse,  —  that's  the 

-*•  principal  thing,"  said  Christopher.  "  At  the 
same  time  I  should  like  to  see  the  rogue  caught 
who  stole  him."  And  he  repeated  what  the  Benting 
boys  had  told  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  tell  you  much  more,"  said  Mr. 
Knowles  ;  "  only  that  the  horse  you  say  belongs  to 
your  uncle  was  sold  to  a  man  in  Southmere  ;  I  forget 
his  name — Baggage,  Bradish,  or  something  of  that 
sort.  The  rogue  got  away  before  we  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  he  was  a  rogue — got  off  with  an 
honest  man's  money,  it  seems." 

"  I  was  afraid  of  that,"  said  Christopher.  "  Who 
is  this  Mr.  Baggage,  or  Bradish  ? " 

"  Or  Bradger ;  that's  more  like  it,"  rejoined  the  offi- 
cer. "  The  most  I  know  of  him  is  that  he's  a  farmer 
over  in  Southmere ;  and  about  as  thick-set  and  stiff- 
necked —  if  he  has  a  neck  —  and  unaccommodating 
an  old  codger,  from  all  I  can  hear,  as  any  you'll  be 


1/6  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

apt  to  run  against.  They  can  tell  you  more  about 
him  at  Hine's  grocery,  where  the  bill  of  sale  was 
made  out." 

"  That's  just  the  place  I  want  to  find  !  "  said  Kit. 

"  Mr.  Graves  is  going  within  a  stone's  throw  of  it. 
Mr.  Graves ! "  The  officer  lowered  his  face  and 
raised  his  voice,  shouting  in  the  ear  of  the  bent  and 
deaf  little  old  man.  "  Will  you  show  this  boy 
Hine's  grocery?" 

The  little  old  man  nodded  and  started  off.  Kit 
turned  to  thank  the  policeman  for  his  kindness. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Knowles ;  "  though  it 
might  have  been  all  wrong  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that 
paper,  which  I  advise  you  not  to  lose  a  second  time, 
for  I'm  not  the  only  officer  furnished  with  your 
description  and  instructions  to  arrest  you." 

"  That's  a  pleasant  thing  to  know,"  laughed  Kit, 
rather  uncomfortably,  as  he  felt  the  paper  in  his 
pocket.  "  But  I  think  I  can  take  care  of  myself 
now." 

He  parted  from  the  separating  crowd  at  the  gate, 
and,  guided  by  Mr.  Graves,  soon  found  himself  at 
the  door  of  Hine's  grocery.  Thanking  again  the 
little  old  man  for  the  very  great  favor  he  had  done 
him,  he  took  leave  of  him  there,  and  entered,  with  an 
anxiously  swelling  heart.  He  felt  certain  that  he 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  177 

was  once  more  on  the  track  of  Dandy  Jim,  whom 
any  but  the  most  blundering  boy  in  the  world  might 
now  reasonably  expect  to  find. 

"  Is  Mr.  Hine  in  ? "  he  asked  of  a  smooth-faced 
man  behind  the  counter. 

"That's  my  name,"  the  smooth-faced  man  re- 
plied. 

Kit  drew  a  quick  breath,  and  continued  :  — 

"Mr.  Knowles,  the  policeman,  directed  me  to  you, 
Mr.  Hine."  Mr.  Hine  bowed.  "  I  wish  to  inquire 
about  two  men  who  came  here  last  night  — " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  know !  "  interrupted  the  grocer, 
with  a  smile.  "That  horse  business.  You're  not 
the  first  person  who  has  come  to  inquire." 

"  Excuse  me  for  troubling  you  again,"  said  Kit ; 
and  he  proceeded  to  explain  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"  I  think  you  will  have  little  difficulty  in  finding 
your  horse,"  said  Mr.  Hine.  The  boy's  heart 
bounded  exultingly.  "  But  as  to  getting  him  — 
that's  another  thing." 

"You  know  the  man  who  bought  him — Mr.  Bag- 
gage, or  Braggage  ? "  queried  Kit. 

"Badger  is  his  name;  Eli  Badger,  of  Southmere," 
replied  the  grocer.  "  I  know  him  very  well ;  and  I 
forewarn  you  that  you  won't  find  him  a  very  pleasant 
customer  to  deal  with." 


178  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  But  if  I  can  show  that  he  has  a  horse  that  right- 
fully belongs  to  my  uncle  —  "  began  Kit. 

"  If  you  can  prove  that,  you  can  eventually  recover 
your  uncle's  property,  no  doubt.  I  shouldn't  like  to 
say  that  Badger  is  a  man  who  would  buy  a  stolen 
horse,  knowing  him  to  be  stolen  ;  but  having  got  one 
in  his  possession,  and  paid  for  him  —  well,"  laughed 
Mr.  Hine,  "all  I  can  say  is,  I  should  like  to  see  the 
boy  of  your  size  who  could  take  that  horse  away 
from  Eli  Badger,  of  Southmere  ! " 

"  It  will  do  no  hurt  to  try,"  replied  Kit ;  "  at  any 
rate,  it  will  be  a  point  gained  to  find  the  horse  in  his 
possession.  You  don't  speak  as  if  you  considered 
him  a  very  just  man." 

"  He  may  be  a  just  man  in  his  way,"  said  Mr. 
Hine.  "  But  of  all  the  grasping,  grudging,  cross- 
grained  people  that  I  ever  had  any  dealings  with, 
Eli  Badger,  of  Southmere,  is  the  beat.  I  pity  you, 
youngster,  if  you've  got  to  get  a  horse  out  of  him  ! " 

"  If  I  can't,  maybe  somebody  else  can,"  said  Kit, 
with  a  troubled  yet  resolute  face.  "  About  how  far 
is  it  to  the  place  where  he  lives  ?  " 

"  It's  a  good  six  miles  to  Southmere  village,  and 
he  lives  somewhere  beyond  that.  He  has  a  small 
farm,  and  raises  a  great  quantity  of  grapes." 

"  I  must  try  to  get  there  to-night,"  said  Kit,  with 


HIS  ONE   FAULT. 

an  anxious  glance  at  the  grocer's  clock.  "  But  first 
I  should  like  to  ask  about  the  man  who  sold  him  the 
horse." 

Having  received  a  very  good  description  of  his 
friend  Cassius  Brunlow,  he  went  on  to  make  further 
inquiries  concerning  that  uncertain  individual,  at  the 
Peaceville  stove-stores. 

Brunlow' s  story  of  his  being  employed  in  one  of 
them  turned  out,  naturally,  to  be  a  little  fiction 
devised  for  hoodwinking  poor  Kit ;  no  Peaceville 
dealer  in  hardware  or  tinware  being  found  who  had 
ever  heard  of  the  itinerant  tinker. 

Having  spent  more  time  and  strength  than  he 
could  well  afford  in  making  these  fruitless  inquiries, 
Kit  set  off  at  length,  weary  and  footsore,  on  the 
road  to  Southmere. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  a  second  harassing  and  toil- 
some day  that  he  entered  the  little  village,  glad  to 
know  that  the  man  he  was  in  search  of,  and  most 
probably  the  horse,  were  now  not  far  off.  Eli 
Badger  was  well  known  to  several  persons  of  whom 
he  had  latterly  inquired  the  way ;  and  each  had 
added  a  stroke  to  the  not  very  agreeable  portrait 
Hine,  of  Peaceville,  had  so  broadly  outlined. 

"  Not  a  very  obliging  man,"  one  had  said,  in  reply 
to  Kit's  questions. 


ISO  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  Grouty,"  said  another. 

"  The  most  obstinate  old  pig  that  ever  went  with- 
out  a  poke,"  said  a  third. 

Kit  was  not  at  all  ambitious  to  encounter  the 
original  of  this  picture  ;  but  the  now  almost  absolute 
certainty  of  discovering  Dandy  Jim  cheered  him  on. 

At  dusk,  in  the  base-ball  cap,  that  had  once  been 
white,  but  which  was  beginning  to  show  the  effects 
of  travel  on  dusty  roads, — tired,  toil-stained,  and 
hungry,  he  paused  doubtfully  on  a  corner  and  looked 
around.  He  saw  a  man  coming  out  of  a  refresh- 
ment saloon,  and  accosted  him. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Eli  Badger's  place  ? "  he  in- 
quired. 

"Badger?      Eli   Badger?"      The   man    pointed. 
"  He  lives  about  a  mile  away,  on  this  street." 

Kit  gave  a  weary  sigh,  and  remembered  wishfully 
the  invitation  Mr.  Benting  had  given  him  to  visit 
the  family  on  his  return. 

"  And  Duckford,"  he  said ;  "  how  far  is  it  to 
Duckford  ? " 

"Over  to  Duckford  Centre"  —  the  man  pointed 
in  another  direction —  "it's  about  five  miles." 

Kit  stood  a  moment  longer,  painfully  hesitating. 
What  was  the  use  of  his  going  farther  that  night  ? 
It  was  not  likely  that  he  could  even  get  a  sight  of 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  l8l 

Dandy  Jim  before  morning.  To  make  any  attempt 
to  gain  possession  of  him  before  then,  or  to  give 
notice  of  his  uncle's  claim  on  him,  might  prove  a 
fatal  blunder;  and  Kit  was  resolved  to  avoid 
blunders  in  the  future. 

"  I  wish  Duckford  wasn't  quite  so  far  away,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  I  might  go  over  to  Maple  Park, 
and  perhaps  get  Mr.  Benting  to  help  me  about 
Dandy  in  the  morning." 

And  before  the  mind's  eye  of  the  harassed  and 
lonesome  boy  was  the  bright  image  of  a  young  girl 
who  had  befriended  him  when  he  most  needed  a 
friend. 

"  If  I  only  had  Dandy  to  ride !  or  if  I  could  hop 
on  a  wagon  going  in  that  direction !  "  he  said  to 
himself,  as  he  cast  longing  glances  up  the  dim  Duck- 
ford  road.  "  I  might  walk  it !  "  He  dismissed  that 
notion  quickly  from  his  mind,  however,  and  entered 
the  saloon  to  rest  his  sore  feet  and  tired  limbs,  and 
study  the  situation  over  an  oyster  stew. 

"  I  won't  do  anything  again  in  a  hurry,  nor  any- 
thing particularly  foolish,  if  I  can  help  it,"  he  said 
to  himself,  while  awaiting  his  order  in  a  private  stall. 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  him  to  think  he  had 
traced  Dandy  to  the  hands  of  a  responsible  farmer. 

"  It   must   be   Dandy,    and  no  mistake,"  he  rea- 


1 82  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

soned,  recalling  all  the  evidence  he  had  obtained 
regarding  Brunlow's  trade,  and  descriptions  of  the 
horse  Eli  Badger  had  received  of  him  and  led  away. 
"I'm  sorry  for  the  man  who  has  been  swindled  out 
of  his  money ;  but  he  might  have  known  there  was 
something  wrong  about  a  horse  that  was  offered  so 
cheap." 

The  stew  came,  and  while  he  was  cooling  it,  he 
perceived  by  the  sound  of  voices  that  three  or  four 
persons  were  entering  the  next  stall.  They  laughed 
and  chatted,  and  gave  their  orders  in  a  way  that 
enabled  him  to  label  them  in  a  word  — 

"  Roughs ! " 

There  was  only  a  low  partition  between  the  stalls 
the  space  above  being  open ;  and  he  could  hear 
much  of  their  conversation,  even  when  they  adapted 
their  tones  to  the  discussion  of  a  business  which 
demanded  privacy.  That  business  he  was  also  soon 
enabled  to  characterize  by  a  single  word  — 

"  Roguery  ! " 

He  sipped  his  soup,  and  pondered  his  own  plans, 
giving  little  heed  to  what  was  going  on  in  the 
adjacent  stall,  until  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a 
distinctly  pronounced  name  — 

"  Eli  Badger !  " 

Then  Kit  pricked  up  his  ears. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  183 

"  Be  on  the  spot,  you  and  Mack,"  one  was  saying, 
"  ready  to  give  us  the  signal.  If  everything  is  all 
right,  we'll  stop  our  team  at  the  corner  of  the  lane, 
this  side." 

"  At  half-past  ten,"  said  another. 

"  That's  too  early,  aint  it,  boys  ? "  said  a  third. 

"  We'll  know  by  the  way  things  look,"  was  the 
reply.  "  If  the  lights  in  the  house  are  out  at  half- 
past  nine,  half-past  ten  will  be  late  enough ;  they'll 
all  be  asleep  by  that  time.  Badger's  too  stingy  to 
keep  a  dog,  and  we  shall  make  precious  little  noise." 

"  It's  a  daisy  of  a  night  for  it,"  said  one  of  the 
other  speakers.  "  Moon'll  be  well  up  by  that  time. 
You  can't  do  such  a  job  in  no  sort  of  decent  shape 
without  a  moon." 

"  If  nothing  happens  to  trip  us,  we'll  just  scoop 
the  thing  to-night,"  was  the  rejoinder.  "  I  was  by 
there  to-day,  and  the  trellises  was  jest  black  with 
'em." 

Then  another  :  "  He's  leaving  them  as  long  as  he 
dares  to,  but  he  won't  resk  'em  many  nights  more, 
fear  of  frosts.  They're  ripe  enough  for  us.  It's 
to-night  or  never." 

"  Mostly  Concords,"  said  one. 

"  Concords  and  Delawares,"  said  another.  "  We 
go  for  the  Concords.  They're  the  easiest  handled ; 


184  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

bigger  clusters ;  you  can  pick  two  bushels  while 
you're  picking  one  of  Delawares." 

"Take  both  kinds,"  was  the  chuckling  response. 
"All  we  can  git,  or  our  team  can  carry  ;  them's  my 
principles." 

"  Don't  talk  so  loud,  boys  !  "  said  a  more  cautious 
whisper ;  "  somebody'll  hear  us." 

"  Aint  nobody  anywheres  nigh,"  replied  another 
suppressed  voice,  the  owner  of  which  put  his  head 
out  of  the  stall  and  gave  a  wary  glance  about  the 
saloon. 

"But  half-past  ten  is  too  early,"  somebody  in- 
sisted. "  Folks  may  be  going  by." 

Eleven  was  finally  agreed  upon.  Then  followed  a 
discussion  of  the  way  the  booty  was  to  be  disposed 
of,  and  other  details  of  the  enterprise,  which  one, 
who  appeared  to  be  the  ringleader,  finally  summed 
up  in  a  few  words,  adding,  — 

"  Now  do  you  all  hook  on  ? " 

Without  waiting  to  hear  whether  they  all  "  hooked 
on  "  or  not,  Kit  slipped  out  of  the  stall,  paid  for  his 
dish  of  oysters,  and  departed. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 
ELI  BADGER'S  CUDGEL. 

TTE  had  about  made  up  his  mind  to  spend  the 
•*••*•  night  in  the  village  and  go  on  to  Badger's 
farm  in  the  morning.  But  now  he  said  to  himself:  — 

"  Those  scamps  mean  to  rob  his  grape-vines  to- 
night. That  won't  make  him  a  very  good-natured 
man  to-morrow.  I  wish  I  could  manage  somehow  to 
let  him  know  of  their  little  scheme." 

How  thankful  he  himself  would  have  been  for 
information  which  might  have  prevented  the  steal- 
ing of  his  uncle's  horse  !  He  thought  of  that,  and 
resolved  that  he  would,  in  this  case,  do  as  he  would 
be  done  by. 

"  I'll  go  on  and  tell  him  myself.  That  will  make 
an  excuse  for  calling  on  him.  Then  I  will  do  what 
seems  best  about  speaking  of  Dandy." 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  in  this  affair  Kit's  mo- 
tives were  mixed,  as  the  motives  of  mere  mortals 
commonly  are.  He  did  not  by  any  means  forget  his 
own  interests  when  he  resolved  to  do  Eli  Badger  a 

185 


1 86  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

favor.  And  yet,  with  his  strong  love  of  justice,  he 
felt  an  unselfish  desire  to  see  even  the  unobliging 
Eli  protect  himself  from  the  depredations  of  those 
marauders. 

He  made  inquiries  for  Badger's  place  of  two  or 
three  persons  on  the  road,  and  was  told  that  he 
would  know  it  by  the  grape-vine  trellises  between 
the  lane  and  the  house. 

It  was  a  gloomy,  anxious  walk,  after  all  the  day's 
fatigues.  Evening  had  come  on,  and  the  moon  had 
not  yet  risen.  There  were  few  houses  on  that  soli- 
tary road.  The  fields  were  lonely  and  open ;  the 
still  stars  looked  down  upon  him  ;  nocturnal  insects 
trilled  in  the  wayside  elders  and  wild  cherries,  whose 
shapes  were  dimly  defined  against  the  western 
horizon. 

He  thought  of  his  mother  in  that  dreary  walk,  and 
felt  sure  that  she  was  thinking  anxiously  of  him. 
Had  she  yet  heard  of  his  strange  and  ridiculous 
blunder  in  bringing  home  the  wrong  horse  ?  Or 
was  she  even  then  waiting  for  him  to  come  dashing 
in,  as  he  often  did  in  the  evening,  and  tell  her  the 
whole  story  of  his  triumph  in  finding  Dandy  at  the 
fair  the  day  before  ? 

"  I'll  make  it  a  real  triumph  before  I  get  through," 
thought  he,  as  he  trudged  on.  And  Uncle  and  Aunt 


HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

Gray,  were  they  talking  of  him  and  his  amazing 
heedlessness  at  that  moment?  And  the  Bentings! 

"  If  I  get  Dandy,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  I'll  ride 
him  over  to  Maple  Park  bareback,  and  get  the 
saddle." 

And  his  bashful  boyish  heart  thrilled  at  the  an- 
ticipation of  meeting  a  certain  pair  of  sympathetic 
blue  eyes. 

His  mind  was  recalled  from  its  wanderings  by  the 
appearance  of  a  house,  set  well  back  from  the  street. 

"  This  must  be  Eli  Badger's,"  he  said.  "  Here  is 
the  lane,  and  the  corner  where  those  grape-thieves 
talked  of  stopping  their  horse ;  over  there  must  be 
the  trellises."  But  looking  down  upon  them  from  the 
street,  which  was  somewhat  higher  than  the  garden, 
he  could  not  make  them  out  in  the  darkness.  He 
had  the  idea  fixed  in  his  mind,  from  a  description  of 
the  place  some  one  had  given  him,  that  the  lane 
formed  the  principal  approach  to  the  premises.  It 
was  open,  and  he  walked  into  it,  having  no  doubt 
that  it  would  take  him  to  the  house,  toward  which  he 
was  drawn  by  two  dimly  lighted  windows.  He  soon 
found,  however,  that  he  was  leaving  them  on  his 
right. 

He  believed  there  must  be  somewhere  a  gate, 
which  he  had  failed  to  find ;  and  walked  back  a  lit- 


1 88  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

tie  way,  exploring  the  lane  in  search  of  it.  Dis- 
covering neither  gate  nor  bars,  he  concluded  to 
simplify  matters  by  climbing  the  fence  and  crossing 
the  yard  to  the  house,  which  seemed  so  near. 

He  got  over  and  was  advancing  carefully,  when  an 
obstacle  rose  before  him  like  another  fence.  This 
time  it  was  a  rather  high  obstacle ;  a  grape-trellis,  in 
fact.  He  was  not  sorry  to  make  the  discovery,  for 
he  was  beginning  to  fear  he  had  mistaken  another 
place  for  Badger's. 

"  Here  are  more  trellises  ! "  he  said  to  himself ; 
and  he  was  groping  to  find  a  way  around  them, 
when  a  rustling  noise  caused  him  to  stop  in  some 
alarm. 

The  gloom  and  strangeness  of  the  place  had 
excited  his  boyish  imagination,  and  he  was  pre- 
pared for  a  good  fright,  when  a  dark  object,  in  the 
direction  of  the  noise,  detached  itself  from  the  mass 
of  the  heavily  draped  frames,  and  advanced  toward 
him. 

Not  knowing  whether  it  was  man  or  beast,  he 
recoiled  instinctively  and  scrambled  to  the  fence. 
Immediately  the  rustle  became  a  rush,  and  with  an 
appalling  tramp  of  heavy  feet,  the  creature  plunged 
after  him. 

It  was  no  beast,  —  perhaps  we  should  qualify  the 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  189 

assertion  by  saying  it  was  no  dumb  beast,  —  but 
broad-backed  Eli  Badger  himself,  who  was  out 
there,  with  a  stout  stick  of  the  hickory  variety, 
keeping  guard  over  his  vineyard.  Vengeance  for 
the  misdeeds  of  many  plundering  youngsters  ani- 
mated the  keen  eyes  that  watched,  the  rushing  feet, 
and  the  arm  upraised  to  strike. 

The  arm  descended,  and  the  cudgel  with  it,  just  as 
poor  Kit  was  climbing  the  fence. 

Thwack  !  whack  !  First  a  blow  on  the  boy's  back, 
then  another,  aimed  at  his  shoulder,  fell  on  that 
lamentably  slight  protection  to  his  skull,  the  closely 
fitting  base-ball  cap ;  and  down  tumbled  a  dark  body, 
dreadfully  limp  and  silent,  at  Eli  Badger's  feet. 

It  was  the  blundering  Christopher,  who  had  fallen 
with  scarcely  an  outcry  at  the  second  stroke  ;  the 
case  in  which  he  carried  those  unlucky  brains  of  his 
having  proved  no  match  for  the  Badger  arm  and 
club. 

"  I've  done  for  him,  sure  as  Gath ! "  said  Eli, 
stooping  to  lift  the  lifeless  lump  of  a  boy. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE    WRONG    BOY. 

'TVHE  stout  farmer's  uppermost  feeling,  when  he 
-*-  saw  what  he  and  his  hickory  cane  had  accom- 
plished, was  not  pity  for  his  victim,  —  whom  he 
might  have  thought  rightly  served,  what^er  hap- 
pened to  him,  —  but  alarm  at  his  own  share  in  that 
happening. 

To  be  summoned  in  court  to  answer  the  charge  of 
soundly  beating  a  boy  caught  pillaging  his  vines,  was 
something  he  had  generally  thought  he  could  stand, 
if  the  boy  could.  But  cracking  skulls  in  punishment 
for  the  offence  of  filching  a  few  grapes,  was  quite 
another  thing.  And  he  was  not  certain  that  this 
boy  had  touched  a  cluster. 

"Who  be  ye?  Why  don't  ye  speak?"  he  said, 
trying  to  get  the  body  into  a  sitting  posture. 
"None  of  your  make-believe  with  me!" 

But  the  body  would  not  sit ;  and  it  was  soon  too 
painfully  apparent  that  there  was  no  "  make-believe  " 
in  the  business.  Something  warm  and  wet  dropped 

190 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  IQI 

from  the  still  face  upon  his  hand ;  and  the  soul  of 
him, — if,  despite  the  popular  prejudice,  Eli  Badger 
had  a  soul,  —  shrivelled  with  consternation. 

He  took  the  body  up  in  his  great  arms,  and  was 
not  relieved  to  find  what  a  mere  lad  he  had  set  upon 
with  his  murderous  bludgeon.  If  he  had  knocked 
down  a  man  like  himself,  it  wouldn't  have  seemed 
quite  so  bad. 

It  was  a  sorry  job  for  Eli,  who  foresaw  that  it 
might  cost  him  much  money  and  more  trouble.  But 
he  was  not  so  brutal  a  person  as  many  believed.  He 
had  not  meant  to  hurt  the  boy  so  badly,  and,  dead  or 
alive,  he  could  not  leave  him  where  he  lay. 

Mrs.  Eli  Badger  was  washing  the  supper  dishes  at 
the  kitchen  sink,  and  Miss  Lydia  Badger  (aged 
seventeen)  was  wiping  them,  by  the  light  of  a 
kerosene  lamp,  when  the  door  was  burst  open, 
and  in  came  the  husband  and  father  bearing  his 
burden. 

The  shock  of  the  spectacle,  as  the  lamp-light  shone 
on  Kit's  insensible  form  and  bleeding  nose,  cost  the 
family  a  plate,  which  escaped  from  Miss  Lydia's 
hand  and  fell  clattering  to  the  floor.  Mrs.  Badger 
threw  up  her  dish-rag  and  ejaculated  :  — 

"  The  land  !     What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I've  hit  a  boy  I  ketched  hooking  grapes,"  said 


I Q2  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

Eli.      "  I'm    'fraid   he's   hurt.      Make  room   on   the 
jounge  there !  " 

"Merthy  thak'th  !  Who  ith  it?"  said  Lydia  —  a 
plump  young  lady  with  very  light  banged  hair,  a  fair, 
full  face,  and  a  lisp. 

"I  haint  the  least  idee,"  said  Eli.  "Don't  stan' 
starin',  but  bring  your  camfire-bottle  quick  !  " 

This  last  remark  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Badger,  as 
any  one  acquainted  with  the  family  might  have 
known  by  the  tone  of  voice.  Eli  had  a  mild  way  of 
speaking  to  his  daughter,  and  a  harsh  way  of  ad- 
dressing his  wife,  which  revealed  much  concerning 
his  domestic  relations. 

"Do  you  know  him?  I  thought  prob'ly  you 
might." 

This  was  uttered  in  the  gentle  voice,  and  Lydia 
answered  accordingly :  — 

"  No,  I  don't  believe  I  ever  theen  him  before. 
What  made  you  thrike  him  tho  hard,  pa?  He'th 
too  nithe  a  looking  boy  to  be  thtealing  grapeth !  " 

She  was  tenderly  wiping  the  stains  from  Kit's 
face,  when  a  faint  voice,  half-muffled  by  the  wet 
napkin  she  was  using,  startled  them,  almost  as  if  the 
dead  had  spoken. 

"  I  wasn't  stealing  grapes  !  " 

It  was  the  voice  of  Kit,  reviving  without  the  aid 


HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

of  the  "  camfire- bottle,"  which  the  frightened  Mrs. 
Badger  was  just  then  hurriedly  bringing  ;  the  wet 
napkin  having  quickened  his  breath  and  fetched  him 
out  of  his  swoon. 

Thereupon  Eli  forgot  his  terrors,  and  remembered 
his  wrath. 

"Wa'n't  stealin'  grapes!"  he  repeated,  as  soon  as 
he  saw  by  Kit's  opening  eyes  that  the  worst  danger 
was  over.  "  What  was  ye  at  my  trellises  fer  ?" 

Kit  sat  up  with  some  difficulty,  and  lifted  his  hand 
with  a  vague  and  unhappy  notion  that  the  head  on 
his  shoulders  belonged  to  somebody  else,  and  that 
it  was  sadly  in  need  of  repairs.  He  dropped  his 
arm  quickly,  however,  with  a  twinge  of  the  part  that 
had  come  in  contact  with  the  Badger  cudgel,  and  sat 
staring  in  a  feeble  and  sickly  way  at  Eli,  on  one 
stout  knee  before  him,  at  Miss  Badger  with  her  sym- 
pathetic face  and  flaxen  hair,  and  lastly  at  Mrs.  Bad- 
ger, thrusting  an  impertinent  bottle  at  his  nose. 

Then  he  made  a  faint  effort  to  explain. 

"I  was  coming  to  find  you, —  if  this  is  Mr. 
Badger,"  —  as  Kit,  judging  by  the  square  build  of 
the  man,  believed  him  to  be.  "  Please  don't !  " 

This  querulous  appeal  was  addressed  to  the  holder 
of  the  bottle,  the  powerful  odor  of  whose  contents 
gave  his  nostrils  a  most  unpleasant  surprise. 


194  H1S    ONE    FAULT. 

"  That's  my  name.  What  did  you  want  of  me,  if 
not  grapes  ?  "  said  Eli,  incredulous. 

Kit  answered  in  broken  sentences. 

"I  was  at  the  oyster  saloon.  In  the  village.  I 
heard  some  young  fellows  talk  of  robbing  your  trel- 
lises. To-night.  I  thought  you  ought  to  know." 

So  saying,  he  put  up  his  hand  again,  still  curious 
to  know  what  there  was  so  peculiar  about  the  head 
he  was  carrying. 

In  answer  to  Eli's  questions,  he  told  all  he  could 
remember,  or  had  strength  to  repeat,  of  the  con- 
versation he  had  overheard. 

"And  you  whacked  him  over  the  head  when  he 
wath  comin'  to  give  you  warning ! "  exclaimed  the 
excited  Lydia.  "  If  that  aint  jutht  too  awful 
thad !  " 

* 

"Of  course,  I  took  him  for  a  thief,  himself," 
said  the  father,  in  his  mild  voice — "comin' on  to 
the  premises  that  way  ! " 

"  What  a  dreffle  mistake  !  "  murmured  Mrs.  Badger. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it,  whether  't  was  a 
mistake  or  not  ? "  growled  the  husband  in  his  gruff 
voice.  "  I  ketched  him  at  my  grapes.  And  I  struck 
him.  Though  I  didn't  mean  ter  strike  him  quite  so 
hard.  How  do  I  know  now  but  what  he  was  helpin' 
himself,  or  goin*  to  ?" 


'•It  was  tho  lilunileriiig  Christopher  who  had  fallen."    /'aye  189. 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  IQ5 

He  turned  again  to  Christopher. 

"  What  did  you  run  fer,  if  you  was  comin'  to  see 
me?" 

"  You  frightened  me,"  said  Kit.  "  Besides,  I 
didn't  know  it  was  you.  And  I  didn't  know  that 
you  would  know  that  I  —  " 

Here  he  put  up  his  hand  again  to  that  bothersome 
head  of  his. 

"  Where  do  you  feel  hurt  ?  "  asked  the  compassion- 
ate Lydia. 

"  My  head.  And  my  shoulder,  I  guess.  And  my 
—  I  don't  know ;  I  feel  bad  all  over,"  murmured  Kit, 
looking  very  pale,  and  sinking  over  on  the  lounge. 

"  Bathe  his  head  in  the  camfire,"  suggested  the 
wife. 

"  Why  don't  ye  do  it,  and  not  stan'  talkin'  o'  doin' 
it  ?  "  cried  the  surly  voice  of  Eli. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  thend  for  the  doctor  ?  "  hinted 
the  daughter. 

"  I'll  see,  bum-by ;  I  guess  he'll  come  out  on't ;  I 
hope  he  will,"  the  amiable  voice  made  answer.  "  If 
he  was  comin'  to  find  me,  why  in  the  name  of  Gath 
didn't  he  come  in  the  front  way  ? " 

At  that,  Kit  roused  up  again. 

"  I  thought  the  lane  was  the  front  way.  I  didn't 
see  any  other.  I  never  was  here  before." 


196  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

Miss  Lydia  arranged  a  shawl  under  Kit's  shoul- 
ders, and  he  lay  on  the  lounge,  tranquil  but  very 
pale,  while  Mrs.  Badger  bathed  the  rapidly  swelling 
bunch  she  found  on  his  organ  of  self-esteem. 

"  Where's  my  cap  ? "  he  faintly  inquired. 

"  Here  'tith,"  replied  Lydia.  "  It  dropped  off  ath 
pa  wath  bringing  you  into  the  houthe." 

Eli  had  risen  and  was  walking  the  room,  while  his 
wife  and  daughter  attended  the  sufferer. 

"  If  ye  was  re'ly  comin'  to  give  me  warnin',"  said 
he,  •"  I  regret  I  was  so  hasty ;  I'd  like  to  take  back 
that  last  blow." 

"  I'd  like  to  have  you  take  'em  all  back !  "  mur- 
mured Kit,  with  a  pallid  smile,  his  sense  of  the 
humorous  asserting  itself  in  the  midst  of  his  weak- 
ness and  pain,  "  and  keep  "em  for  those  fellows  !  " 

"  I've  been  pestered  to  death  by  boys  hookin'  my 
fruit,"  Eli  went  on,  in  self-defence.  "You  wouldn't 
wonder  't  I  git  mad  sometimes  !  It's  hard  to  ketch 
'em  at  it ;  and  if  I  do  once,  they're  full  of  their  hum- 
bug excuses  —  innocent  as  babes!  T'other  evenin' 
one  come  walkin'  right  in  among  the  vines  where  I 
was  keepin'  watch,  and  two  others  after  him.  I  riz 
right  up  from  where  I  was  settin',  and  faced  him. 
Did  he  run  ?  Nary  step !  But  jes'  's  I  was  goin*  to 
grab  him,  he  looks  me  cool  in  the  face  and  says, 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  197 

'  Good  evenin',  Mr.  Badger !  We've  called  to  see 
if  you'll  be  willin'  to  sell  us  a  few  bushels  of  your 
nice  grapes,  when  they  git  ripe  ;  we  don't  suppose 
they're  quite  ripe  enough  to  pick  yit.'  They'd  have 
thought  they  was  ripe  enough  if  I  hadn't  been  there. 
But  what  could  I  do  but  give  'em  a  piece  of  my 
mind  ?  I've  regretted  ever  since  't  I  didn't  give  'em 
a  whalin' !  Mabby  I  gin  it  to  the  wrong  one,  when  I 
gin  it  to  you,"  he  said,  pausing  and  looking  down  at 
Christopher.  "  But  how  do  I  know  this  story  'bout 
your  comin'  to  warn  me  aint  of  a  piece  with  their 
pretence  about  wantin'  to  buy  ? " 

Kit  had  experienced  so  much  trouble  lately  in  get- 
ting people  to  accept  his  explanations  that  he  had 
not  a  heart  to  answer.  He  said,  however,  rather 
stolidly,  after  a  pause  :  — 

"  You  needn't  believe  me ;  but  if  you  find  your  grapes 
gone  in  the  morning,  perhaps  you'll  wish  you  had." 

"  I  shall  keep  watch,"  said  Eli,  with  a  peculiarly 
grim  expression  of  the  square-set  jaws  turned  toward 
the  lamp-light.  "  Who  be  ye,  any  way  ?  Where  do 
ye  live  ? " 

"  My  name  is  Christopher  Downimede,  and  I  live 
in  East  Adam." 

"  East  Adam !  That's  a  long  way  off !  What's 
your  business  around  here  ?  " 


198  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

"  I'm  on  my  way  home  from  Peaceville,"  Kit 
answered.  He  did  not  deem  it  a  favorable  moment 
to  introduce  the  horse  question. 

"  Been  to  the  cattle-show  ?  "  said  Eli. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Christopher. 

"I  was  there  yesterday,"  Mr.  Badger  resumed. 
"  I  got  some  grapes  and  pears  on  exhibition  which 
bad  oughter  take  prizes.  'Taint  much  of  a  show; 
it's  all  runnin'  to  hoss-racin',  late  years." 

Lydia  smiled  to  see  her  father  so  civil  to  the 
young  stranger,  whose  hurts  she  was  nursing.  He 
was  rarely  so  gracious  to  anybody  but  her. 

"  Seems  to  me  you  come  out  o'  your  way  con- 
siderable," he  added. 

"  I  had  a  little  business  this  way,"  Kit  replied. 

"  Didn't  expect  to  git  to  East  Adam  to-night,  did 
ye?" 

"  No  ;  I  was  going  to  stay  in  the  village  back 
here.  But  I  thought  I  ought  to  come  —  and  tell 
you  —  about  the  grape-thieves." 

His  voice  faltered  ;  he  looked  as  if  he  was  going 
to  faint  again.  Miss  Lydia  regarded  him  with 
tenderest  concern. 

"  He  won't  have  to  go  away  from  here  to-night, 
will  he  ? "  she  appealed  to  her  papa.  "  I  don't  thee 
how  he  can ! " 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    RIGHT    HORSE. 

I  BADGER  was  still  averse  to  calling  the  doo 
tor,  but  he  did  not  see  that  he  could  do  less  for 
the  boy  he  had  given  so  gratuitous  a  beating  than  to 
put  him  to  bed  in  his  own  house.  The  bed  was 
accordingly  prepared,  and  Kit  was  weary  and  weak 
enough  to  fall  asleep  almost  as  soon  as  Eli  had 
helped  him  into  it. 

"  He  got  a  pooty  hard  hit,  that's  a  fact !  "  said  the 
dealer  of  the  blows,  as  he  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Ith  he  any  worthe  ?  Are  you  going  for  the 
doctor  ? "  Lydia  inquired,  seeing  him  put  on  his  hat 
and  button  his  coat. 

"He  don't  want  no  doctor,"  said  the  soft  side  of 
Eli.  "  I'm  goin'  for  Mahoney." 

Mahoney  was  his  hired  man,  who  lived  a  little 
farther  up  the  street. 

"To  get  him  to  watch  with  you?"  Mrs.  Badger 
meekly  asked. 

"  What  else  do  you  s'pose  I  want  him  fer,  this  time 
o'  night?"  the  hard  side  of  him  sharply  responded. 

199 


2OO  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"You  go  to  bed,  you  two,  and  never  mind  about 
me.  Have  the  lights  out  by  nine  o'clock,  any  way. 
There'll  be  fun  by  moonlight,  't  about  'leven,  if  this 
boy  tells  the  truth." 

"  Of  courthe  he  tellth  the  truth ;  anybody  can 
thee  that,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  hope  you  won't  whack 
the  wrong  perthon  again." 

"  No  danger  this  time ! "  replied  the  father,  with 
an  ugly  look,  which  was  not  meant  for  the  daughter. 

"  And  don't  hit  quite  so  hard,  I  wouldn't ! " 
pleaded  Mrs.  Badger. 

"What  business  is't  of  yours  how  hard  I  hit?" 
snapped  the  husband,  with  a  still  more  ugly  look, 
which  was  meant  for  the  wife.  "  Hold  your  tongue, 
if  you  can't  talk  sense !  " 

With  this  parting  advice  he  went  out  of  the  house, 
and  did  not  return  to  it  until  midnight. 

Kit  awoke  the  next  morning  with  a  sore  head,  a 
lame  shoulder,  and  a  stunned  and  dizzy  feeling 
which  recalled,  disagreeably,  his  adventure  of  the 
evening  before.  He  lay  thinking  it  over,  and  won- 
dering what  he  should  do  about  Dandy — at  the  same 
time  gazing  listlessly  at  the  odd  figures  on  the  wall- 
paper of  Mrs.  Badger's  best  room  —  when  Mr. 
Badger  walked  in. 

The    square-visaged,  broad-backed  worthy  was  in 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  2OI 

his  most  amicable  frame  of  mind.  He  inquired  for 
Kit's  health,  and  said  cheeringly  :  — 

"  Got  along  pooty  well  'ithout  a  doctor,  hey  ? 
Wa'n't  hurt  so  very  bad,  after  all,  was  ye  ? " 

"  I  shouldn't  care  to  be  hurt  much  worse,  unless  I 
wanted  to  put  my  friends  to  the  trouble  of  a 
funeral,"  Kit  replied,  with  a  smile  of  feeble 
pleasantry.  • 

"Wai!"  said  Eli,  with  a  grin  of  satisfaction, 
"  that's  a  toler'ble  stiff  stick  I  thumped  ye  with,  no 
mistake !  You  should  'a'  come  in  t'  other  way. 
But  ye  meant  it  fer  a  favor  to  me ;  and  'twas  a 
favor." 

"  Did  they  come  for  the  grapes  ? "  Kit  was  eager 
to  know. 

Eli  Badger  indulged  in  a  sinister  laugh. 

"  They  did !  They  was  true  to  their  app'int- 
ment.  They  come  with  a  one-hoss  team  and  bas- 
kets and  boxes  prepared  to  jest  clean  my  vineyard 
out.  But  me  and  my  man  was  on  hand.  We'd 
been  hid  fer  nigh  onto  two  hours,  and  had  had  a 
pooty  lonesome  time  on  't,  when  we  heard  some- 
body come  'round  reconn'iterin',  an'  bum-by  a  wagon 
stopped  jest  a  little  ways  down  the  street." 

"  Farther  than  the  corner  of  the  lane  ? "  said  Kit. 

"Yes;   some  rods.      If  it  had   stopped  there,  it 


2O2  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

wouldn't  have  got  off ;  I  was  hid  by  the  fence,  on 
the  watch  fer  't.  As  'twas,  we  gin  our  'tention  to 
the  rascals ;  waited  till  they  got  well  to  pickin',  then 
rushed  out  on  'em."  Eli  chuckled  grimly.  "'Twas 
moonlight.  You  sh'd  'a'  been  there  to  see  the  fun  ! 
You've  no  idee  on  't !  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  said  Kit,  remembering  his  share  in 
some  very  similar  fun  a  few  hours  earlier,  and  im- 
agining the  surprise  it  must  have  been  to  the  rogues 
when  the  ponderous  Eli  made  his  onset.  "  Catch 
anybody  ?  " 

"  I  knocked  one  down,  and  my  Irishman  grabbed 
him.  Then  I  thumped  another  and  grabbed  him, 
and  I  might  have  disabled  a  third,  if  I  hadn't  been 
afraid  o'  strikin'  too  hard  with  that  stick ;  my  over 
doin'  the  thing  with  you  had  learnt  me  a  lesson  ! 
He  got  off  with  the  wagon.  We  done  pooty  well, 
though.  We  got  two  baskets  and  a  bushel  box, 
'sides  our  prisoners ;  and  I  know  who  they  all  be." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  the  two  you  caught  ? " 
Kit  asked. 

"  Marched  'em  down  town,  found  a  watchman,  and 
had  'em  locked  up,"  said  Eli.  "I'll  have  out  war- 
rants for  the  others  this  mornin',  and  make  things 
lively  for  the  whole  lot.  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  !  " 
he  added,  with  hearty  emphasis. 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  2O3 

"You  are  quite  welcome,  I  am  sure,"  murmured 
Kit. 

Just  then  came  a  little  rap  at  the  door,  and  Miss 
Badger's  lisp  was  heard. 

"  Breakfath,  pa !  Can  he  come  ?  I  've  got  hith 
ham  and  eggth  a-cooking." 

"  Come,  can't  ye  ? "  said  Eli.  "  Ye'll  feel  more 
chipper  after  you've  got  suthin'  warm  into  yer  stom- 
ach ;  don't  ye  b'lieve  ye  will  ?  Guess  ye  will !  " 

"  I  hope  so.  I'll  try,"  Kit  answered,  bestirring 
himself. 

He  had  already  made  two  or  three  attempts  to 
rise,  and  had  once  got  as  far  as  his  elbows,  but  had 
sunk  back  again  with  a  faint  and  giddy  sensation. 
The  stout-limbed  Eli,  full  of  kindly  and  hospitable 
feelings  for  his  guest,  now  came  to  his  assistance; 
and  the  boy,  sitting  up,  got  his  bare  feet  upon  the 
painted  floor  ;  then  carefully  rested  his  weight  upon 
them. 

"  I  shall  be  all  right  after  a  while,"  he  said. 
"  Don't  keep  your  breakfast  waiting  for  me." 

"  It  can  wait  as  well  as  not,"  replied  Eli.  "  We're 
in  no  hurry  this  mornin'.  My  Irishman,  after  bein' 
up  half  the  night,  won't  be  around  for  an  hour  or 
two.  And  I've  nothin'  to  do  but  to  look  after  our 
grape-stealers.  Can  I  do  anything  more  fer  ye  ? " 


2O4  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Kit,  glad  to  be  left  alone. 

He  limped  to  the  wash-stand,  and  felt  refreshed 
after  a  free  use  of  cold  water  .about  his  head  and 
neck.  Then  he  stood  before  the  little  square 
looking-glass,  by  a  small  dressing-table  covered  with 
a  white  cloth,  and  with  Mrs.  Badger's  best  hair- 
brush and  comb  completed  his  toilet ;  wincing  as  he 
arranged  the  locks  carefully  alj£ut  that  part  of  his 
cranium  which  had  been  visited  by  the  hickory  stick. 

He  found  the  breakfast  waiting  for  him,  and  sat 
down  with  the  family,  feeling  already  much  more 
comfortable  in  body  and  cheerful  in  mind  than  when 
he  awoke. 

Two  or  three  circumstances,  however,  interfered 
with  his  perfect  enjoyment  of  a  plain,  substantial 
meal.  He  would  have  been  better  pleased  if  Eli 
had  not  flooded  his  plate  so  profusely  as  he  did  with 
fat  gravy.  He  would  also  have  much  preferred  that 
Mr.  Badger  should  not  constantly  snub  Mrs.  Badger 
in  his  presence,  making  him  feel  crushed  and  un- 
comfortable on  her  account.  The  lady,  however, 
seemed  acclimated,  so  to  speak,  to  her  husband's 
torrid  temper,  and  really  to  mind  it  less  than  Kit 
minded  it  for  her. 

Then  there  were  some  not  very  agreeable  things 
about  the  otherwise  charming  Lydia.  She  seemed 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  2O5 

to  take  her  father's  treatment  of  her  mother  as  a 
matter  of  course,  no  doubt  thinking  it  fully  atoned 
for  by  his  gentler  manner  towards  herself.  With 
her  full,  fair  features,  and  flaxen  hair  —  long  and 
flying  behind,  but  combed  straight  down  in  front, 
and  cut  precisely  from  ear  to  ear  across  the  eye- 
brows, completely  concealing  her  forehead,  if  she 
had  one,  —  she  sat  opposite  their  guest,  and  seemed 
much  of  the  time  quite  oblivious  of  her  breakfast,  in 
the  interest  she  took  in  his  own. 

Kit  disliked  to  be  stared  at  when  he  was  eating, 
especially  by  a  young  lady  with  banged  hair..  She 
not  only  stared  ;  she  stared  admiringly ;  and  when- 
ever he  looked  up,  as  he  could  not  help  doing  now 
and  then,  .fascinated  by  her  gaze,  her  large,  blue 
eyes  and  full,  red,  open  lips  encouraged  him  with  a 
sweet  smile. 

Another  thing  tended  to  dampen  the  ardor  of  Kit's 
attack  on  the  ham  and  eggs,  —  the  thought  of  Dandy. 

There  was  much  talk  at  table  about  the  grape- 
thieves,  Eli  relating  over  and  over  again  how  he 
had  lain  in  ambush  and  rushed  out  upon  them  with 
his  club,  capturing  or  putting  them  to  flight.  At 
length,  shoving  back  his  chair,  he  remarked  that  he 
must  drive  to  the  village  and  see  about  swearing  out 
warrants  for  them,  the  first  thing. 


2O6  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  You  better  not  be  in  a  hurry  about  leavin*  us," 
he  said  to  the  guest.  "Stay  and  git  recruited  a 
little." 

He  put  on  his  hat  and  was  going  to  the  barn, 
when  Kit  rose  to  follow  him. 

"I  think  I  should  like  to  —  to  go  out  —  and  look 
at  your  horses  and  stock,"  he  said,  glancing  around, 
"if  I  could  find  my  cap." 

"Here  'tith  !  "  said  Lydia,  bringing  it  with  alacrity 

Eli  waited  for  him  to  put  it  on,  which  Kit  did 
cautiously,  wearing  it  well  on  the  back  of  his  head 
to  favor  his  painfully  enlarged  bump  of  self-esteem  ; 
and  the  two  went  out  together. 

"  Now  don't  you  see  how  you  blundered  ? "  said 
Mr.  Badger,  showing  the  lane  and  the  way  into  the 
lower  part  of  it  from  the  back  door  of  the  house. 
"If  you'd  come  down  further,  you'd  have  been  aU 
right,  though  the  front  way  'd  'a'  been  better. 
Lane,  ye  see,  goes  straight  to  the  cattle-yard." 

The  cattle-yard  surrounded  the  barn,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  barn  was  the  stable,  the  door  of  which 
stood  broadly  open.  Kit,  as  he  entered  with  Eli, 
and  heard  the  sound  of  horses  champing  in  their 
stalls,  felt  his  bosom  swell  with  intense  expectation. 

"  I  lost  a  hoss  a  week  ago,"  Mr.  Badger  remarked, 
taking  a  curry-comb  from  a  corner  brace  of  the 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  2O/ 

building.  "  One  cf  the  best  bosses  I  ever  owned. 
Broke  his  leg  gitt'n'  it  through  a  hole  in  the  bridge. 
Had  to  knock  him  on  the  head.  Town  '11  have  to 
pay  the  damages,  or  I  miss  my  ca'c'lation.  Whoa  ! 
stan'  round !  " 

He  slapped  the  hip  of  the  first  horse  with  his 
comb,  and,  passing  into  the  stall,  undid  his  halter. 

"  I  bought  a  new  one  to  take  his  place,  day  'fore 
yis'day.  Had  a  chance  to  buy  cheap,  over  to 
Peaceville,  to  the  cattle-show.  Back,  ye  brute  !  '* 

Kit  held  his  breath ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
slightest  thing  might  burst  his  hope  like  a  "bubble, 
and  awaken  him  from  an  illusion. 

Eli  tied  the  halter  to  a  staple  in  the  rear  of  the 
stalls,  and  began  to  curry  the  animal. 

"Good  trade  as  ever  I  made,"  he  said,  between 
strokes  of  the  comb.  "  I  thought  fust  there  might 
be  suthin'  wrong  about  him,  he  was  offered  so  cheap. 
But  I  know  a  good  hoss  when  I  see  it ;  and  I  know 
a  broken-winded,  spavined,  ring-boned,  glandery 
beast  when  I  see  it.  None  o'  them  things  about 
this  critter ! " 

"  I  —  should  —  think  —  not,"  breathed  Kit,  almost 
too  excited  to  speak  above  a  whisper,  and  forgetting 
all  his  hurts  and  pains  in  the  fearful  joy  of  the 
moment. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

KIT    IS    INVITED    TO    RIDE. 

"  T  COULDN'T  tell  if  he  balked  till  I  tried  him," 

•*•  Eli  Badger  went  on,  full  of  the  satisfaction  in- 
spired  by  his  excellent  bargain.  "  But  I  can't  find 
that  he's  got  that  fault,  either.  Stan'  round,  you 
brute ! " 

The  horse  "  stood  around  "  again,  turning  toward 
Christopher,  in  the  broad  light  of  the  open  door,  his 
peculiarly  marked,  mottled  side. 

"  There  might  have  been  something  wrong  in  the 
man's  title  to  him,"  the  boy  suggested,  with  more 
confidence  in  his  tones  of  voice. 

"I  thought  of  that,"  said  Eli.  "But  he  told  a 
pooty  straight  story.  Had  to  take  him  for  a  debt, 
and  was  obliged  to  turn  him  into  money.  'Twas 
a  good  chance,  any  way  ;  I  wanted  jes'  such  a  hoss, 
and  I  thought  I'd  take  the  resk.  If  anybody's  got  a 
better  claim  to  him  now  than  I've  got,  he'll  have  to 
prove  it,  that's  all.  Stan'  round  !  will  ye  ? " 

Kit  observed  the  crinkles  that  had  not  yet  dis- 
208 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  2OQ 

appeared  from  the  lately  braided  foretop,  and  said, 
as  carelessly  as  so  intensely  interested  a  boy 
could :  — 

"  Suppose  a  man  with  a  claim  on  him  should  — 
happen  along  ? " 

"What  Vd  I  do?"  said  Eli.  "What  'u'd  any 
man,  that  is  a  man,  do  in  my  place  ?  I'd  hold  on  to 
him  as  long  as  I  could,  sure  as  Gath !  Anybody  't 
knows  me  '11  tell  ye  that." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  faltered  Christopher.  "  But  you 
might  be  putting  yourself  to  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
and  expense." 

"  Like  enough ;  but  I'd  be  puttin'  him  to  a  good 
deal  of  trouble  and  expense  at  the  same  time.  That 
way  I  might  force  him  to  a  compromise.  '  Here,' 
says  I,  '  's  a  hoss  wuth  a  hundr'd  and  forty  dollars. 
You've  lost  him  ;  I've  bought  him.  Gi'  me  half  that 
amount  o'  money  and  take  him.'  I'll  git  back  what 
he  cost  me,  anyhow,  if  an  owner  does  come  along  and 
prove  property, — which  aint  at  all  likely,"  added 
Eli,  plying  his  comb. 

"  Going  to  drive  him  this  morning  ? "  Kit  softly 
inquired. 

"  No  ;  I  drove  him  yis'day ;  guess  I'll  drive  t'other 
one  this  mornin'.  Thought  I'd  rub  him  down, 
though,  and  see  how  he  looks.  Stan'  round,  I  say ! 


2IO  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

Mighty  likely  boss  that,  now,"  said  Eli,  "  for  seventy 
dollars  ! " 

"  I  should  think  he  was  well  worth  twice  that,  as 
you  say,"  replied  Christopher. 

"  I  b'lieve  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Badger,  "  if  he's  wuth  a 
penny.  Oh,  I  got  a  good  bargain  when  I  got  him  ! " 

The  other  horse  was  then  curried  and  harnessed, 
and  Eli,  telling  Kit  to  make  himself  "  to  home  "  and 
"git  recruited,"  rode  off  to  see  about  "  fixin'  the 
grape-thieves,"  leaving  Dandy  Jim  in  the  stall. 

Kit  went  out  and  looked  about  the  place,  trying  to 
calm  his  excitement  and  determine  what  he  should 
do.  Then  he  went  back  and  feasted  his  hungry  eyes 
on  Dandy  Jim  once  more.  There  could  not  possibly 
be  any  mistake  about  the  identity  of  the  horse.  He 
had  all  Dandy's  characteristic  marks ;  he  carried 
himself  like  Dandy,  he  looked  like  him  out  of  the 
eyes,  and  he  was  shod  behind  and  not  before. 

The  boy  studied  him  a  long  while,  then  strolled  up 
the  lane,  and  looked  off  in  the  direction  Eli  had 
gone,  all  the  while  struggling  with  a  great  tempta- 
tion. 

He  was  startled  from  his  reveries  by  a  lisping 
voice  in  the  vineyard. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  get  thome  grapeth  ?  I  think 
you  detherve  thome,  after  latht  night ! "  And  the 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  211 

face  of  the  fair  Lydia  looked  over  at  him  sweetly 
from  its  frame  of  flaxen  hair. 

He  accepted  the  invitation,  but  instead  of  climbing 
the  fence  as  on  the  night  before,  went  around  by 
the  passage  between  the  house  and  the  cattle-yard. 
Lydia  met  him,  and  picked  for  him  the  finest  clus- 
ters she  could  find.  He  thanked  her,  and,  wishing 
to  be  alone,  made  off  again  toward  the  stable. 

She  followed  him,  however,  with  her  hands  full  of 
lovely  Delawares  and  Concords,  which  she  ate  her- 
self, and  continued  urging  upon  him. 

"  I  gueth  you're  fond  of  hotheth  ! "  she  remarked, 
seeing  how  absent-mindedly  he  let  his  longing  eyes 
wander  in  the  direction  of  the  stalls. 

Kit  confessed  that  circumstances  had  caused  him 
lately  to  take  a  lively  interest  in  those  useful  animals. 

"  My  father  got  a  futht-rate  one  for  a  mere  thong, 
two  or  three  dayth  ago,"  she  said,  plucking  grapes 
one  by  one  from  a  bunch,  and  blowing  the  skins 
from  her  lips  after  she  had  sucked  them.  "  Have 
you  theen  him  ? " 

"  Your  father  showed  him  to  me,"  replied  Kit. 
"  He's  a  pretty  fair-looking  horse.  Is  he  easy  under 
the  saddle?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Lydia.  "  I  never  ride  both- 
back  ;  do  you  ?  " 


212  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  Sometimes ;  once  in  a  great  while,"  Kit  an- 
swered, dryly. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ? "  she  asked,  turning  her  beaming 
face  full  upon  him,  while  she  squeezed  a  plump  Con- 
cord into  her  moist  ripe  lips. 

"  Yes,  if  I  don't  have  too  much  of  it  at  once,"  he 
replied,  negligently  sucking  the  last  of  his  Dela- 
wares. 

"  Pa'th  got  a  thaddle  thomewhere,"  she  went  on, 
as  they  stood  in  the  stable-door.  "  You  can  take  a 
little  ride,  if  you  think  you  would  fanthy  it." 

Here  was  his  temptation  again,  in  a  more  terrible 
form  even  than  at  first.  Once  on  Dandy's  back, 
with  Miss  Badger's  smiling  acquiescence,  starting  off 
for  a  little  ride,  would  he  be  able  to  stop  before  he 
had  got  him  once  more  safe  in  Uncle  Gray's  front 
yard  ? 

He  saw  himself  riding  triumphantly  through  East 
Adam  village,  waving  his  cap  at  his  mother  as  she 
ran  to  the  door  or  window  in  answer  to  his  gleeful 
call ;  and  finally  astonishing  Uncle  and  Aunt  Gray, 
as  he  swung  himself  from  Dandy's  back  at  their 
door.  And  what  was  to  prevent  him  from  taking 
Duckford  and  Maple  Park  on  his  way  ? 

But  could  he  repay  Miss  Badger's  kindness  by 
such  an  act  of  seeming  treachery  ?  Strange  as  it 


HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

may  appear,  her  tempting  proposal  made  it  still 
more  difficult  for  him  to  take  possession  of  Dandy  in 
an  underhand  way. 

He  had  tried  his  hand  once  at  stealing  him,  —  for 
he  remembered  how  much  it  had  seemed  like  steal- 
ing when  he  was  betrayed  into  acting  against  the 
dictates  of  his  conscience  by  Brunlow's  persuasive 
cunning.  Would  it  seem  less  like  it  now,  to  secure 
his  uncle's  property  by  fraud  or  force,  with  or  with- 
out Lydia's  innocent  co-operation  ? 

He  could  imagine  her  parting  smiles,  as  she  saw 
him  set  off  for  his  "  little  ride  "  ;  then  the  growing 
solicitude  with  which  she  would  watch  for  his  return ; 
her  anxiety  becoming  alarm  as  the  conviction  was 
gradually  forced  upon  her  mind  that,  if  not  a  grape- 
thief,  their  youthful  honest-seeming  guest  was  what 
was  worse,  —  a  horse-thief  in  disguise !  Then  he 
could  foresee  Eli's  rage  on  coming  home  and  learn- 
ing what  had  been  done  in  his  absence. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Kit,  hesitatingly  ;  "  I  don't 
think  —  I  care  —  to  ride." 

He  had  mastered  the  temptation  in  its  most  en- 
ticing shape.  And  surely  the  proposed  exercise  was 
not  such  a  novelty  to  him  just  then  that  he  should 
desire  merely  to  be  jounced  up  and  down  by  a  hard- 
trotting  horse. 


214  HIS   ONE  FAULT. 

"  I  thuppothe  you  don't  feel  like  it  tho  thoon 
after  latht  night,"  said  the  sympathizing  Lydia. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  would  be  a  little  too  much  for  my 
nerves,"  —  meaning  his  good  resolution, — he  re- 
plied, in  a  regretful  tone. 

"  I'm  thorry  !  "  said  Lydia,  sweetly.  "  I'd  be  tho 
gi.ad  to  thee  you  have  a  nithe  ride ! " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"A  JUSTIFIABLE  STRATAGEM." 

HPHOUGH  much  had  been  gained  by  the  dis- 
•*•  covery  of  Dandy  in  .responsible  hands,  Kit 
could  not  easily  forego  the  satisfaction  of  taking 
him  home,  and  saving  his  uncle  much  future  trouble 
and  loss  in  recovering  his  property. 

Having  abandoned  the  idea  of  "stealing"  him, 
he  began  to  meditate  a  different  and  hardly  less 
audacious  plan  of  accomplishing  his  purpose  with- 
out letting  him  go  out  of  his  sight.  This  he  pro- 
ceeded to  put  into  practice  on  Eli's  return  from 
the  village. 

Eli  was  in  excellent  spirits — much  better  than 
he  would  have  been  in,  Kit  thought,  if  he  had  come 
home  to  find  that  his  visitor  had  galloped  away  on 
his  new  horse.  He  had  obtained  evidence  corrobo- 
rating Kit's  story  of  the  presence  of  the  fruit-thieves 
in  the  oyster-saloon  the  evening  before ;  all  had  been 
identified,  and  warrants  were  out  for  those  not  al- 
ready in  custody. 

215 


2l6  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

Mr.  Badger  appeared,  consequently,  well  disposed 
toward  one  who  had  done  him  so  important  a  ser- 
vice, and  been  soundly  cudgelled  by  him  in  the 
performance  of  it.  Kit,  therefore,  found  it  easy  to 
say :  — 

"  Don't  you  want  to  harness  up  your  other  horse 
this  afternoon,  and  take  me  home  ?  " 

"  Must  ye  be  goin'  ? "  said  Eli. 

"  I  think  so.  But  I'm  not  able  to  walk  very  far. 
I'll  willingly  pay  you  for  your  trouble." 

"  Sence  't  was  my  business  that  brought  ye  here, 
and  my  stick  that  welcomed  ye,"  said  Eli,  with  a 
grin,  "  I  s'pose  I  can  afford  to  carry  ye  home  for 
nothin'.  I'd  oughter,  I  guess,  under  the  circum- 
stances." 

Lydia  was  disappointed  to  learn  that  their  guest 
was  to  leave  them  so  soon. 

"Though,  if  he  mutht  go,"  she  said,  approvingly, 
to  her  papa,  "  of  courthe  you'd  oughter  tackle  up  and 
take  him  home." 

Kit  trembled  lest  Mrs.  Badger  should  also  approve 
of  the  plan,  and  so  turn  her  husband  against  it.  But 
having  lately  received  some  dispiriting  rebuffs  from 
the  conjugal  side  of  his  nature,  she  fortunately  kept 
quiet. 

The  boy  still  had  doubts  about  the  right  horse 


HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

being  chosen  for  the  expedition  ;  and  after  dinner  he 
went  out  to  watch  the  harnessing,  with  the  greatest 
solicitude.  Lydia  came  tripping  after,  and  whis- 
pered something  in  her  father's  ear.  The  paternal 
part  of  him  uttered  a  gentle  growl  of  assent,  and  she 
ran  back  into  the  house. 

Kit  was  too  deeply  absorbed  in  the  horse  ques- 
tion to  give  much  heed  to  her  at  the  time,  notwith- 
standing the  significant  nod  and  sweet  smile  with 
which  she  favored  him,  glancing  over  her  plump 
shoulder  as  she  retired.  He  hardly  dared  utter  a 
word  until  assured  by  Eli's  movements  that  Dandy 
was  to  be  driven  that  afternoon.  Nor  did  he  volun- 
teer any  remarks  even  then,  being  fearful  of  betray- 
ing his  unbounded  satisfaction. 

He  noticed  that  Mr.  Badger  put  a  second  seat  into 
the  open  buggy,  as  if  it  had  been  necessary  for  a 
man  of  his  bulk  to  have  the  forward  seat  entirely  to 
himself.  Kit's  eyes  took  the  measure  of  the  broad 
back,  and  was  carrying  it  along  for  comparison  with 
the  capacity  of  the  seat,  when  the  meaning  of 
Lydia' s  secret  errand  and  parting  smile  suddenly 
dawned  upon  him. 

His  conjecture  was  confirmed  when  he  saw  her  pres- 
ently come  out  of  the  house,  in  hat  and  mantilla,  put- 
ling  on  a  torn  kid  glove,  with  a  parasol  under  her  arm. 


2l8  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  I'm  going  with  you  ;  did  you  know  it  ? "  she 
said,  with  a  happy  glance  at  Christopher.  "  I  thup- 
pothe  you  won't  object." 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  replied  Kit. 

He  was  not,  however,  supremely  delighted  with 
the  arrangement ;  not  for  any  reason  personally 
uncomplimentary  to  the  fair  Lydia,  but  because 
he  deemed  it  just  possible  that  Eli,  if  he  drove 
Dandy  Jim  to  his  owner's  premises,  might  not 
have  him  to  drive  home  again.  In  that  case,  Miss 
Badger's  presence  in  the  wagon,  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  journey,  might  add  to  Mr.  Badger's 
embarrassment,  and  prove  a  fruitful  source  of 
unpleasantness. 

He  would  have  been  glad  to  say  good-by  to  Mrs. 
Badger,  who  had  been  kind  to  him,  and  for  whom, 
in  her  down-trodden  state,  he  felt  much  sympathy. 
But  as  he  was  starting  toward  the  house  for  that 
purpose,  Eli  called  him  back. 

"Sayin'  good-by  to  her  aint  of  no  consequence," 
he  grumbled,  in  something  like  his  marital  tone  of 
voice.  "  We  must  be  off.  It's  a  long  drive  to  your 
place,"  he  added,  arranging  the  reins. 

"  The  longer  the  better ! "  whispered  Lydia,  as 
Kit  helped  her  into  the  buggy. 

"Jump  in,"  said  Eli,  seeing  Kit  hesitate.     "Better 


"  You  can  take  a  little  ri.le,  if  you  think  you  would  taut  li  v  it."    Page  212. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

take  the  hind  seat  with  Lyddie ;  there'll  be  more 
room." 

"Aint  it  jeth'  thplendid?"  she  laughed,  opening 
her  parasol  as  Kit  took  his  seat  beside  her. 

"  It  suits  me ! "  he  replied,  with  a  rather  stern 
smile,  thinking  of  the  glory  of  returning  to  his 
uncle's  behind  the  stolen  horse,  after  all  his  blunders 
and  tribulations. 

Then,  as  the  vineyard  was  passed,  where  he  had 
met  with  his  latest  mishaps,  and  the  homeward  road 
was  struck  at  a  brisk  trot,  he  could  hardly  keep  from 
laughing  at  the  grouty  and  unobliging  Eli  himself 
being  induced  to  go  with  him  and  drive  Dandy  home 
to  his  lawful  owner. 

Lydia  chatted  and  lisped  vivaciously,  as  they  rode 
along  the  country  highways  in  the  mild  September 
weather.  Eli  bragged  of  his  new  horse,  and  named 
extravagant  prices  for  him,  increasing  his  figures  as 
Dandy  quickened  his  paces ;  the  horse  appearing  to 
be  aware  of  Kit's  presence  and  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  headed  for  home. 

"  If  a  horse  could  speak,"  thought  Kit,  "  he  might 
have  spoilt  my  fun  by  neighing  out  when  he  first  saw 
me  this  morning  :  '  Hello  !  That  you,  Kit  ?  Where 
did  you  come  from  ? '  ' 

As  it  was,  how  little  did  Eli  suspect  the  familiar 


22O  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

acquaintance  of  boy  and  horse,  or  dream  of  the  dis- 
agreeable surprise  in  store  for  him  ! 

Kit  had  not,  from  the  first,  been  quite  at  ease  in 
his  mind  regarding  the  deception  he  was  practising. 
And  we  have  seen  how  Miss  Badger's  proposal  to 
add  her  plumpness  to  the  load  had  cast  an  equiva- 
lent weight  upon  his  conscience.  But  once  on 
his  way  home,  he  silenced  his  scruples  and 
indulged  in  jubilant  thoughts  of  his  well  earned 
triumph. 

"I'm  not  going  home  without  Dandy  Jim,  after 
all !  Once  there,  I'll  leave  Eli  Badger  and  Uncle 
Gray  to  'settle  the  hash,'  as  uncle  would  say. 
Won't  it  be  fun  to  stand  by  and  see  two  such  men 
glare  at  each  other  and  contradict  and  fling  adjec- 
tives over  Dandy's  back !  Uncle's  a  match  for  Eli 
at  that  business  ;  and  he'll  have  the  inside  track,— 
his  own  horse  on  his  own  ground,  and  plenty  of  wit- 
nesses to  prove  property." 

Kit  chuckled  at  his  own  shrewdness,  which  he  flat- 
tered himself  was  sufficient  to  atone  for  many  blun- 
ders. Instead  of  the  bungling  operation  of  carrying 
evidence  to  Southmere  and  securing  Dandy  by  legal 
process,  here  was  the  horse  himself  trotting  com- 
lortably  back  to  East  Adam  and  the  premises  where 
he  belonged,  from  which  not  even  Eli  could  venture 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  221 

to  take  him  by  violence  after  the  owner's  claim  was 
duly  shown. 

Who  could  say  that  it  was  not  a  justifiable  strat- 
agem ?  Yet  the  more  certain  it  seemed  of  success, 
the  more  seriously  Kit  began  to  consider  the  other 
side  of  the  question.  If  it  would  have  been  wrong 
to  ride  Dandy  off  surreptitiously  in  the  morning,  as 
he  had  been  tempted  to  do,  could  the  device  he  was 
now  employing  be  altogether  right  ? 

"  Eli  will  be  mad  enough  to  finish  what  the  stick 
]eft  of  me  last  night,"  he  thought.  "And  Lydia! 
What  a  traitor  I  shall  appear  in  her  eyes;  taking 
advantage  of  their  kindness  in  this  way  !  " 

For  he  felt  that  they  had  been  really  kind  ;  nor 
could  he  pretend  that  all  they  were  doing  for  him 
was  justly  his  due  for  the  blows  of  the  hickory  club 
the  night  before ;  remembering  that  it  was  quite  as 
much  to  serve  his  own  purpose  as  to  befriend  Eli 
that  he  blundered  into  the  vineyard,  to  his  hurt. 

"  I  shall  feel  better,"  he  reasoned,  "if  he  will  take 
pay  for  carrying  me  now.  That  will  make  it  seem 
more  like  a  fair  transaction.  He  can't  say  then 
that  he  walked  into  my  trap  simply  by  way  of  doing 
me  a  favor.  If  I  hire  him,  there's  no  favor  about  it ; 
it's  just  a  matter  of  business." 

He  waited  for  a  good   chance   to   introduce   the 


222  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

subject;  then,  putting  his  hand  into  his  pocket, 
remarked  :  — 

"  You  haven't  yet  told  me,  Mr.  Badger,  what  I  am 
to  pay  you  for  this  ride." 

"  What  you're  to  pay  ? "  said  Eli.  "  Yes,  I  told 
ye.  Noth'n'.  That's  what  I  said,  wa'n't  it  ? " 

"  Thertain  it  wath,"  declared  Lydia.  "  Put  up 
your  money.  Do,  pleathe  !  " 

"But  I  can't  let  you—  "Kit  began  to  remon- 
strate. 

"You'll  have  to  let  me,"  said  Eli.  "What  I  say  I 
stick  to.  What  I'm  doin'  fer  you  now,  I  aint  doin' 
fer  no  money.  I'm  doin'  it  coz  you  done  me  a  good 
turn,  and  coz  I've  took  a  notion  to  ye." 

Kit  still  insisted,  but  found  Eli  Badger  as  obsti- 
nate in  the  performance  of  a  friendly  action  as  he 
had  the  reputation  of  being  in  the  more  selfish  con- 
cerns of  life.  The  boy  was  at  length  obliged  to  put 
up  his  money,  which,  however,  burned  in  his  pocket, 
and  proved  an  added  burden  to  his  soul. 

Was  it  not,  after  all,  a  mean  sort  of  trick  he  had 
resorted  to,  and  would  not  an  open,  honest  course 
have  been  better  ?  What  a  return  for  Eli's  good- 
nature in  carrying  him  home,  to  take  away  his  horse 
when  they  should  get  there  ! 

"  As  if  the  loss  of  the  money  he  had  paid  for  him 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  223 

wouldn't  be  enough,"  thought  Christopher,  "  without 
so  much  extra  trouble  ! " 

He  was  not  a  boy  to  regard  a  matter  of  this  sort 
very  long  from  an  exclusively  selfish  point  of  view. 
He  had  the  spirit  to  perceive  that  Eli,  too,  had  a 
side,  and  that  there  was  a  medium  ground  of  honor 
and  justice.  He  was  fearful  of  committing  another 
blunder  in  the  business,  which  had  been  too  fruitful 
of  blunders  already ;  and  yet  it  seemed  to  him, 
before  they  had  made  half  the  journey,  that  he  ought 
to  tell  Eli  what  was  before  him. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

KIT    MAKES    A    CONFESSION. 

~T/'  IT  grew  strangely  absent-minded,  in  the  midst 
^  *"  of  Lydia's  pleasant  chatter,  and  at  last  she 
became  silent.  Then  Eli  remarked  :  — 

"  Seems  to  me  you  took  a  deal  of  pains  to  go  to 
the  cattle-show,  seein'  there's  no  railroad  direct  from 
your  place." 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  pains  enough  ! "  assented  Christo- 
pher. "  I  don't  think  I  should  care  to  go  again,  in 
just  the  same  way." 

"  It's  a  long  ja'nt,"  said  Eli,  "  fer  a  boy  like  you. 
Didn't  walk  all  the  way,  did  ye  ? " 

"  I  walked,  when  I  wasn't  lucky  enough  to  get 
rides,"  replied  Kit. 

"  I  should  think  't  would  have  took  ye  about  all 
day  to  git  over  there  and  back  to  my  place,  let  alone 
seein'  the  show,"  Mr.  Badger  remarked. 

"I  didn't  —  see  much  of  it — the  second  day," 
faltered  Kit. 

"  What !  ye  wa'n't  there  both  days,  was  ye  ? " 
said  Eli,  turning  half  around,  and  showing  his 

224 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  22$ 

square-built  visage,  in  some  surprise.  "1  wan'  to 
know !  Didn't  see  me  there  the  fust  day,  did  ye  !  " 

Kit  could  not  remember  that  he  had  enjoyed  that 
pleasure. 

"  Wai,  I  was  off  the  last  half  of  the  afternoon," 
Eli  resumed,  "  raisin'  money  to  pay  fer  this  nag.  I 
come  pooty  nigh  missin'  my  chance  of  buyin'  him, 
after  all.  Mighty  glad  I  didn't !  How  d'ye  like  the 
way  he  gits  over  the  road  ?  G'lang  !  "  cracking  his 
whip.  "  Aint  nothin'  very  bad  about  him,  is  the'  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  a  horse  lately  that  I'd  sooner  be 
riding  after,"  replied  Christopher. 

"Ner  I!"  chuckled  Eli.  "I  didn't  git  back  to 
the  show  till  't  was  jes'  breakin'  up,  after  the  racin' 
was  over ;  the  feller  't  I'd  bargained  with  had  got 
tired  o'  waitin',  and  had  harnessed  him  into  a  wagon 
in  place  o'  somebody's  hoss  that  had  been  stole. 
Ye  might  'a'  heard  about  that  if  you'd  stayed  late 
enough.  Some  Duckford  boys  had  lost  their  animal, 
and  they  made  a  big  pow-wow  about  it." 

"I  must  have  left  the  ground  just  before  the  — 
pow-wow,  as  you  call  it,"  suggested  Kit. 

"  They  wanted  me  to  lend  'em  this  hoss,  to  foller 
up  their'n  with ;  but  I  wanted  to  be  gittin'  home,  to 
look  after  my  grapes,"  said  Eli.  "I  had  him  out  of 
their  harness  in  about  forty  winks,  and  left  'em  to 


226  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

shift  for  themselves.  'T  wa'n't  none  o'  my  business 
to  hunt  for  their  lost  hoss.  Some  said  a  little  feller 
in  a  white  cap  had  jest  rid  him  away." 

Kit,  in  his  base-ball  cap,  which  had  once  been 
white,  sat  silent,  thinking  Eli  might  at  any  moment 
look  around  again  and  connect  him  with  the  adven- 
ture he  was  relating.  Lydia  was  smiling  upon  him, 
as  unsuspicious  of  his  secret  as  if  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  seeing  such  caps  every  day. 

"  Where'd  ye  stop  over  night  ? "  Eli  inquired. 
"  They  say  the'  aint  no  good  public-house  in  Peace- 
ville  sence  the  temperance  folks  shet  up  the 
bars." 

"  I  went  home  to  my  uncle's  to  spend  the  night," 
Kit  replied. 

"  Home  to  East  Adam  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Badger. 
"  You  don't  say  !  I  shouldn't  'a'  thought  you'd  done 
that  if  you  wanted  to  be  to  the  cattle-show  the 
second  day." 

"  I  had  a  chance  to  ride,"  Kit  explained,  thinking 
what  a  ride  it  was,  on  the  wrong  horse !  "  And  I 
thought  my  uncle's  folks  —  for  some  reasons  — 
would  be  anxious  to  see  me." 

He  could  hardly  resist  the  impulse  he  felt  to 
relate  then  and  there  the  whole  story  of  the  horse 
the  unconscious  Eli  was  driving  with  such  unalloyed 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  227 

satisfaction.  But  while  he  was  considering  how  to 
begin,  Lydia  changed  the  subject  by  inquiring : 
"  What  maketh  you  live  with  your  uncle'th  folkth  ? 
Ith  it  a  good  home  ?  " 

"  As  good  as  I  deserve,  I  suppose,"  said  Kit,  with 
rueful  recollections  of  his  recent  troubles.  "  I  have 
to  work  for  my  living,  and  I  may  as  well  do  it  there 
ae  anywhere.  Though  I'm  not  sure  I  shall  stay 
much  longer." 

"Why  tho  ?"  Lydia  inquired. 

Not  knowing  just  what  his  uncle's  final  intentions 
would  be  regarding  him,  Kit  answered  cautiously 
that  he  had  some  intention  of  looking  for  a  place 
that  might  suit  him  better. 

"How  would  our  plathe  thuit  you?"  she  asked. 
"  I've  heard  pa  thay  many  a  time  that  he  would  like 
to  engage  a  good  thmart  boy  —  young  perthon," 
she  corrected  herself,  with  an  admiring  look  at 
Christopher. 

The  thought  of  working  for  a  man  like  Eli,  of  sit- 
ting daily  at  table  with  the  Badger  family,  and 
witnessing  poor  Mrs.  Badger's  martyrdom,  he  did 
not  find  enticing.  But  he  answered  diplomati- 
cally :  — 

"  I  don't  believe  I  am  smart  enough  for  him  ;  I'm 
a  fearfully  stupid  fellow ! " 


223  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  You  '  thupid  !  "  laughed  the  incredulous  Lydia. 
"  I  gueth  not  !  Ith  he,  pa  ? " 

"  I  cal'late  he's  smart  enough  fer  me,"  said  Eli. 
"  I've  been  thinking  on't  myself.  I  want  jes'  such  a 
boy ;  and  if  you'll  come  and  try  it  with  me  fer  a 
spell,  and  we  both  like,  I'll  pay  you  good  wages." 

"  Oh,  won't  that  be  thplendid  ! "  cried  the  enthusi- 
astic Lydia. 

Thinking  it  might  be  useful  to  hold  this  proposal 
in  reserve,  Kit  answered  discreetly  :  — 

"You're  very  kind,  considering  how  little  you 
know  me.  But,  of  course,  I  can't  say  what  I  will  do 
until  I  have  talked  with  my  mother  and  my 
uncle." 

Lydia  said,  "  I'm  thertain  we  know  you  well 
enough  ! "  while  Eli  meditated  some  moments  be- 
fore speaking  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  you  come,  fust  rate.  But  how  is 
it  ?  Seems  to  me  there  can't  be  much  work  to  do 
where  you  be,  or  else  your  uncle  is  a  pooty  indulgent 
sort  of  man,  to  let  you  go  two  days  a-runnin'  to  the 
cattle-show." 

The  moment  for  freeing  his  mind  and  setting  him- 
self right  with  those  whom  he  had  so  deceived,  — 
that  fatal  moment  seemed  to  Christopher  to  have 
arrived  ;  and  he  answered  unhesitatingly :  — 


HIS   ONE  FAULT.  22Q 

"  I  had  business  in  Peaceville,  or  I  shouldn't  have 
gone." 

"Business?"  queried  Eli;  "to  take  ye  there  two 
days  a  runnin'  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Kit,  "  since  I  didn't  quite  succeed  in 
it  the  first  day." 

"  Didn't  have  anything  on  exhibition,  your  folks 
didn't,  did  they  ?  You're  in  another  county." 

"We  didn't  exhibit  anything;  and  yet"  —  Kit's 
voice  trembled  a  little  —  "we  had  a  horse  there." 

"  How's  that  ? "  said  Eli. 

"  I  haven't  told  you,"  replied  Kit,  after  a  long 
breath,  "that  we  —  my  uncle — had  had  a  horse 
stolen,  and  I  was  in  search  of  him." 

Eli  started.  "  A  hoss  stole  ? "  he  asked,  giving  a 
quick  backward  glance  at  the  boy  behind  him. 

"I  traced  him  to  Peaceville,"  Kit  continued,  in  a 
voice  which  his  utmost  resolution  failed  to  keep 
steady.  "  I  found  him  under  one  of  the  cattle-sheds 
at  the  fair.  But  when  I  went  to  take  him.  I  —  I 
took  another  horse  by  mistake." 

Eli  turned  still  more  completely,  and  gave  Kit  and 
his  base-ball  cap  an  astonished  look. 

"You!"  he  exclaimed.  "Can't  be  you're  the 
little  feller  in  the  white  cap  I  heard  'em  tellin' 
about!" 


23O  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  I  suppose  I  am,"  said  Kit,  losing  color,  but 
speaking  firmly.  "  They  thought  I  meant  to  steal 
the  horse  I  took.  But  I  didn't ;  and  I  took  him 
back  to  Mr.  Benting,  in  Duckford,  yesterday,  as  I 
can  show  by  a  paper  in  Mr.  Benting's  own  hand- 
writing." 

"  That's  a  strange  story  !  "  growled  Eli  Badger. 

"  It  'th  a  perfect  romanthe !  "  exclaimed  Lydia, 
who  did  not  yet  see  the  full  significance  of  it,  as  it 
dawned  upon  the  dull  paternal  mind. 

"  What  become  of  the  hoss  you  was  after  ? "  Eli 
demanded,  in  the  tone  he  was  accustomed  to  use  in 
addressing  the  miserable  Mrs.  Badger  at  home. 

"I  hope  you  found  him!"  said  the  sympathizing 
Miss  Lydia. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  you  don't  know  what  you're 
talkin'  about ! "  cried  her  father,  forgetting,  for 
once,  to  change  the  stop  of  his  vocal  organ,  and  turn 
on  the  sweet  sounds  she  usually  called  forth.  Then 
facing  squarely  about  and  glowering  on  Christopher  : 
"  Tell  me  about  that  hoss !  " 

"  I  got  on  his  track  again  yesterday,"  Kit  an- 
swered, not  a  little  scared,  but  resolute  still.  "  That, 
to  be  frank,  Mr.  Badger,  was  the  business  that  took 
me  so  far  out  of  the  direct  way  home.  The  scamp 
had  sold  the  horse  to  a  man  in  your  town,  and  I  —  " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  23  I 

Eli  suddenly  pulled  rein. 

"  Look-a-here  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  No  nonsense 
with  me  !  What  sort  of  a  hoss  was  he  ? " 

Kit  felt  that  the  crisis  had  come.  He  answered 
with  a  frightened  smile  :  — 

"  Very  much  such  a  horse  as  you  are  driving,  Mr. 
Badger." 

Eli  stopped  Dandy  short  and  poised  his  whip. 

"Is  this  the  hoss  ? "  he  demanded. 

"  The  very  horse  !  "  replied  Christopher. 

"  Goodneth  graciouth  me  !  "  almost  shrieked  the 
fair,  the  bewildered  Lydia.  "What  a  thingular 
cointhidenthe  !  " 

"  Singular  !  "  snarled  Eli.  "  Why  didn't  ye  tell 
me  this  before  ? "  looking  savagely  at  Christopher, 
as  if  he  would  like  to  follow  up  with  his  whip  (as 
poor  Kit  had  anticipated)  the  little  job  his 
hickory  stick  had  left  incomplete  the  evening 
before. 

"  I  ought  to  have  done  it,"  the  boy  hastened  in 
some  trepidation  to  explain.  "But  you  gave  me 
such  a  clubbing  last  night,  —  and  told  me  this 
morning  how  you  meant  to  hold  on  to  the  horse, 
spite  of  anybody,  —  I  didn't  believe  —  I  knew  I 
couldn't  get  him ;  and  I  thought  the  best  way 
would  be  to  get  you  —  to  hire  you — for  I  wanted 


232  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

to  pay  you,  you  know  —  to  drive  him  over  to  my 
uncle's." 

"Offered  to  pay  me!"  thundered  Eli.  "And 
didn't  I  refuse  to  take  your  money?" 

"  You  did,"  said  Kit.  "  And  that  decided  me  to 
tell  you  the  truth  before  you  went  any  farther." 

"  I'm  thertain  that  wath  real  honorable ! "  inter- 
posed Lydia. 

"  Real  fiddledee !  "  said  the  father,  or  perhaps  we 
should  say  the  husband  of  her  mother,  for  the  soft 
paternal  Eli  seemed  to  have  hardened  into  stone. 
He  reached  back  as  if  to  clutch  the  boy  who  had  so 
imposed  upon  his  good-nature,  muttering:  "I've  a 
good  notion  to  pitch  you  heels  over  head  out  of  this 
buggy!" 

"  Let  me  get  out  and  save  you  the  trouble,"  Kit 
responded,  promptly. 

"  No,  no !  "  pleaded  Lydia,  clasping  his  arm  ; 
"thit  thtill!  If  he  throwth  you  out,  I'll  get  out 
too  ! " 

"  Let  him  stay,  then,  if  he  wants  to  ! "  said  Eli, 
facing  forward  again,  and  seizing  whip  and  reins. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  pa  ? "  screamed 
Lydia. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  drive  back  home,  fast  as  ever  this 
hoss  can  snake  us  over  the  road,  sure  as  Gath ! " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  233 

said  Eli,  backing  and  cramping  the  buggy  toward 
the  wayside  fence. 

"  Oh,  pa ! "  she  persisted,  "  can't  you  hear  to  rea- 
thon  ? " 

"Reason!  Who's  got  any?"  retorted  Mr.  Bad- 
ger. 

"  I'll  settle  this  little  difficulty  ! "  cried  Kit,  pre- 
paring to  jump  out. 

"Oh,  pa!  "  she  continued,  "thtop  jutht  a  minute, 
for  my  thake !  won't  you  ?  You'll  be  thorry  if  you 
don't !  You  know  he  aint  able  to  walk  !  " 

And  detaining  Christopher  with  the  hand  which 
held  her  parasol,  she  reached  over  with  the  other 
and  made  a  snatch  at  the  reins. 

Eli  stopped. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 
"WAL,  F'R  INSTANCE!" 

Kit  was  getting  his  affairs  into  this 
fresh  tangle,  his  mother  was  making  a  hur- 
ried journey  on  foot  from  East  Adam  village  to 
Uncle  Gray's  farm. 

She  had  seen  nothing  of  her  son  since  that  moon- 
light glimpse  of  him,  when  he  rode  to  her  door  on 
the  false  Dandy's  back.  She  had  grown  anxious, 
waiting  for  him  to  come,  as  he  had  promised,  and 
tell  her  the  story  of  his  wonderful  adventure.  And 
now  rumors  had  reached  her  of  the  astounding  error 
into  which  he  had  that  night  been  betrayed,  and  of 
his  starting  off  the  next  day,  alone,  to  make  such 
amends  for  it  as  he  could,  to  the  owners  of  both 
horses. 

In  great  distress  of  mind  she  trudged  to  the  farm- 
house door.  Her  coming  was  observed  ;  and  with 
as  cheerful  a  countenance  as  she  could  assume,  but 
with  apprehensions  of  an  unpleasant  scene,  Aunt 
Gray  admitted  her  brother's  widow. 

234 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  235 

There  was  still  a  faint  odor  of  burnt  stramonium 
and  saltpetre  in  the  house,  showing  that  Uncle 
Gray,  despite  the  fine  weather,  had  not  yet  fully 
recovered  from  his  asthmatic  attack. 

"  Marier  !  Why,  how  do  you  do  ?  "  said  Aunt 
Gray,  affecting  pleasurable  surprise  at  sight  of  the 
widow. 

But  poor  Mrs.  Downimede  had  neither  time  nor 
breath  to  waste  in  fine  phrases. 

"What  is  this  strange  thing  I  hear?"  she  said, 
sinking  upon  a  chair;  "about  my  Christopher!" 

"  What !  have  you  heard  about  that  ? "  replied 
Aunt  Gray,  with  a  smile  of  broad  pleasantry. 
"  Well,  he  did  make  the  funniest  mistake !  Do 
take  off  your  things,  won't  you  ?  And  stop  to  tea." 

But  Kit's  mother  couldn't  think  of  tea,  nor  of  any 
thing  else,  until  she  knew  what  had  become  of  hei 
boy.  She  sat,  with  her  face  sadly  pale  and  worn  in 
its  frame  of  black  crape,  while  Aunt  Gray,  dropping 
into  an  arm-chair  opposite,  proceeded,  not  without 
touches  of  humor,  to  describe  Kit's  curious  mis- 
adventure. 

"Just  think  of  his  comin'  home  here,  proud  as  a 
kitten  with  her  first  mouse,  and  then  findin',  after 
all,  that  he'd  brought  another  man's  hoss !  I  declare 
it  was  too  bad  !  and  yet  I  couldn't  help  laughin',  for 


236  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

the  life  of  me,  when  I  come  to  think  it  over.  But 
his  uncle  couldn't  see  anything  comical  in  it.  He 
took  it  about  as  hard  as  Christopher  himself  did. 
It  went  right  to  his  bronichal  tubes "  (Aunt  Gray 
meant  bronchial  tubes,  I  suppose),  "along  with  the 
night  air;  and  he  has  been  strainin'  at  gnats  and 
swallerin'  camels  ever  sence." 

"But  where  is  he — where  is  Christopher?"  the 
pale  lips  under  the  black  crape  inquired,  with  deep 
concern. 

"You  needn't  be  the  least  mite  worried  about 
Christopher,"  Aunt  Gray  replied,  with  an  appearance 
of  greater  confidence  than  she  perhaps  felt.  "  I 
gave  him  money  for  his  expenses,  and  he's  a  boy 
that  can  be  trusted  to  take  care  of  himself,  for  all 
his  blunderin'." 

"Take  care  of  himself!"  said  a  simmering  voice  ; 
and  Uncle  Gray,  hollow-chested  and  bent,  with 
bristling  iron-gray  hair,  and  thin,  hooked,  sallow 
nose,  looking  more  like  a  cheese-paring  than  ever, 
shuffled  into  the  room.  "  If  he  can,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  know  it ;  for  there's  nothin'  else  under  the  canopy 
o'  heaven  he  can  be  trusted  to  take  care  on." 

"  I'm  so  sorry  !  "  said  the  widow,  wiping  her  eyes. 
"  He  is  heedless  at  times,  I  know.  But  he  has  many 
good  qualities ;  that  you  must  allow.  There  never 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  237 

was  a  better  boy  to  his  mother  than  my  Christopher. 
And  I  did  hope  —  I  did  hope"  —  beginning  to  sob  — 
"you  would  have  a  little  patience  with  him  !" 

"Patience  with  him  !"  sizzled  Uncle  Gray.  "Job 
himself  couldn't  have  patience  —  and  continner  to 
have  —  with  such  a  dunderpate  !  He  would  mislay 
the  family  Bible  if  he  had  the  handlin'  on  't ;  or  the 
barn  door  if  't  wa'n't  on  hinges.  Lucky  his  head  is 
fast  to  his  shoulders,  or  you  might  expect  to  see  him 
go  mopin'  around  without  it  some  mornin',  askin'  if 
anybody'd  seen  anything  of  his  head  !  " 

Uncle  Gray  ended  with  something  between  a 
thistle  and  a  snort,  intended  for  a  sarcastic  laugh. 

"  Well ! "  Aunt  Gray  interposed,  soothingly,  "  it's 
a  pretty  good  head,  if  it  does  blunder  sometimes. 
And  it's  a  still  better  heart  the  boy  has  ;  nobody  can 
find  any  fault  with  that.  Don't  you  go  to  bein'  dis- 
couraged about  your  son,  Marier,  for  I  aint.  He's 
pure  gold  all  through ;  no  gilt  nor  tinsel  about  him. 
And  he'll  turn  out  so,  mark  my  word." 

"  I  know  what  he  is,"  said  the  widow.  "  I  only 
wish  I  knew  as  well  where  he  is  at  this  moment,  and 
had  him  back  in  our  own  little  home  once  more.  I 
never  thought  you  would  do  such  a  thing  as  to  let 
him  go  off  alone,  on  a  hunt  for  the  stolen  horse,  in 
the  first  place.  Still  less  would  I  have  believed,  — 


238  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

after  your  promise  to  be  a  father  to  him,  if  he  would 
come  and  live  with  you  !  —  still  less  did  I  imagine 
you  could  be  so  unfeeling  as  to  tell  him  he  needn't 
come  back  without  Dandy." 

She  gave  Uncle  Gray  a  reproachful  look  through 
her  tears.  He  paced  excitedly  to  and  fro,  his  inter 
nal  hornets'  nests  humming  sonorously. 

"  Wai,  wal !  "  he  said,  "  I  was  provoked  to  death  ! 
So  would  anybody  'a'  ben  in  my  place.  And,  fact 
is,  I  cant  have  a  boy  around  't  I  can't  rely  on  to  look 
after  things  a  little  better ;  that's  the  long  and  short 
on't." 

"I  don't  know  what  we're  going  to  do,"  said  the 
weeping  widow.  "  And  yet  I  do,  too  ;  Christopher 
must  come  back  home,  —  if  he  ever  comes  back  at 
all !  —  or  find  another  place.  And  I  can't  bear  — 
oh,  I  can't  bear  to  have  him  go  to  strangers  !  What 
can  we  expect  of  them,  since  his  own  relatives  are  so 
hard  upon  him  ? " 

"  I  never  meant  to  be  hard  upon  him,  Sister 
Marier,"  replied  Uncle  Gray.  "  I  been  real  kind  to 
him,  if  I  du  say  it !  Leastwise  I  meant  to  be." 

"I  suppose  so.  And  yet  I  can't  understand!" 
murmured  the  widow.  "After  he  had  been  off 
once,  and  bad  such  bad  luck,  and  you  had  learned 
how  little  he  was  to  be  trusted,  I  wonder  you  should 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  239 

have  let  him  start  off  again, — a  mere  boy  so  !  —  to 
hunt  for  your  horse,  or  even  to  return  the  one  he 
had  brought  home." 

"Truth  is,  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  about.  I 
was  half  crazy  with  the  azmy.  Otherwise,  I'd  no 
more  'a'  done  it  than  I'd  —  " 

Uncle  Gray,  still  pacing  to  and  fro,  with  his  head 
down,  over  his  hive  of  bees,  stopped,  and,  lifting  his 
eyes,  looked  from  the  window,  as  if  in  search  of  a 
metaphor  strong  enough  for  his  purpose.  But  all  at 
once  he  forgot  that  he  wanted  a  metaphor ;  he  for- 
got even  to  wheeze. 

A  two-seated  open  buggy,  containing  three  per- 
sons, was  driving  into  the  yard.  Aunt  Gray  noticed 
the  changed  expression  of  his  face,  and  heard  the 
sound  of  wheels ;  following  his  glance  with  her  own, 
she  saw  a  stout  driver  on  the  front  seat  and  a  young 
lady  with  a  parasol  behind. 

"What  strangers  be  them?"  she  exclaimed. 
"Gracious  me,  I  must  hurry  and  slick  up  a 
little ! " 

Uncle  Gray  stared  at  the  horse,  and  buzzed  out, 
"  Dandy  Jim  !  as  I'm  a  livin'  bein' !  " 

The  widow  caught  sight  of  a  base-ball  cap,  and  a 
smiling  face  partially  eclipsed  by  the  larger  orb  of 
Eli's  cloudy  countenance,  and  exclaimed  joyfully, 


240  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

"  Christopher !    it's  Christopher !    it's  my  boy  come 
back !  " 

Christopher  it  was,  indeed,  with  the  real  Dandy, 
and  Mr.  Badger  and  Miss  Badger ;  having  accom- 
plished at  last,  without  guile,  what  he  had  once 
thought  to  do  by  artifice  or  stealth. 

He  had  Lydia  to  thank  for  this  happy  result ; 
but  for  whose  timely  interference  Eli  would  certainly 
have  turned  back  from  the  point  where  we  left  them, 
and  driven  home  in  an  unreasoning  rage. 

Despite  her  lisp,  and  the  cut  of  her  flaxen  hair, 
and  other  things  about  her  which  Kit  did  not  vastly 
fancy,  she  had  at  that  crisis  shown  herself  possessed 
of  more  good  sense  and  firmness  of  purpose  than  he 
had  given  her  credit  for,  during  their  brief  acquaint- 
ance. 

By  her  influence  over  her  father,  which  even  his 
anger  could  not  long  resist,  she  had  compelled  him 
to  halt  and  listen  ;  then,  encouraging  Kit  to  remon- 
strate, she  had  helped  him  bring  out  the  strong 
points  in  the  case,  and  shake  the  resolution  of  the 
most  obstinate  of  men. 

If  it  was  really  a  stolen  horse  he  had  bought,  he 
could  not  expect  to  hold  him,  no  matter  how  much 
money  he  had  paid  for  him  ;  and  a  lawsuit  would 
only  add  to  his  loss.  Did  he  doubt  Kit's  word,  he 


HIS   ONE    FAULT.  24! 

could  prove  it  true  or  false  by  finishing  the  journey, 
then  more  than  half  accomplished.  This  would  be 
the  best  thing  to  do,  under  any  circumstances ;  Kit 
agreeing  that  Eli  should  not  be  without  a  horse  to 
drive  home  again,  if  he  could  help  it. 

Nor  need  he  be  so  incensed  with  the  boy,  Lydia 
argued.  It  was  not  a  very  wicked  stratagem  he 
had  used,  and  he  had  shown  his  honest  intentions  by 
confessing  the  truth  about  it  before  it  was  too  late 
to  turn  back. 

"If  you  had  taken  my  money,"  he  explained,  "as 
I  expected  you  would  when  we  started,  I  should 
have  felt  I  was  doing  right.  But  the  more  I 
thought  of  it,  the  worse  it  seemed,  to  take  advantage 
of  your  kindness  in  that  way.  For  you  have  really 
been  kind  ! " 

"  We  owed  it  to  you,  for  latht  night,"  said  Lydia. 
"  For  though  you  wath  hunting  for  your  hoth,  you 
wathn't  obliged  to  come  and  tell  uth  about  the 
grape-thtealerth. " 

"I  am  as  sorry  as  anybody  can  be,"  Kit  added, 
"  that  you  have  bought  a  horse  of  a  man  that  had  no 
right  to  sell  him,  and  I  am  sorry  to  lose  your  friend- 
ship." 

"  Oh,  you  won't  lothe  that ! "  exclaimed  Lydia. 
"  I  think  more  of  you  than  ever." 


242  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  Don't  never  set  up  no  claim  agin  to  not  bein' 
s -n;irt  enough!"  said  Eli,  with  abundant  negatives, 
his  growl  beginning  to  soften.  "  The'  aint  nothin' 
over  'n'  above  stupid  about  you,  by  Gath  ! " 

More  conversation  of  this  sort  had  at  length 
changed  his  determination  ;  and  here  they  were  with 
Dandy  at  the  door. 

"  Wai,  f'r  instance !  "  said  Uncle  Gray,  rushing 
out  as  Kit  was  getting  down  from  the  buggy. 
"  You've  got  the  right  hoss  this  time  !  Wai !  wal ! 
it's  the  beatermost  thing  you  ever  done  yit !  " 

Surprise  and  joy  had  caused  him  to  forget  both 
his  asthma  and  his  hat,  and  in  his  eagerness  to  look 
Dandy  over,  he  paid  very  little  heed  to  Kit's 
companions.  He  opened  the  horse's  mouth,  he 
patted  his  neck,  he  stroked  his  shanks  ;  then  ran 
his  finger  through  his  own  stiff  upright  forelock, 
and  stood  off  a  pace  or  two  for  a  better  view,  again 
exclaiming  gleefully :  — 

"  Wal !  wal  !  f'r  instance  ! " 

Meanwhile,  somebody  else  was  no  less  absorbed 
in  Christopher,  hugging  and  kissing  him  with  laugh- 
ter and  tears,  regardless  of  the  eyes  of  strangers. 

"This  is  my  mother,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  could 
free  himself,  introducing  her  to  Mr.  and  Miss  Badger. 
"  And  this  is  my  Aunt  Gray.  And  Uncle  Gray." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

"A    GOOD    OFFER." 

A  FTER  witnessing  the  widow's  reception  of  her 
*•  son  and  the  uncle's  joy  over  the  recovery  of 
Dandy,  Eli  must  have  given  them  all  credit  for  very 
good  acting,  indeed,  if  he  doubted  for  a  moment  ths 
entire  truth  of  Kit's  story.  Even  the  horse  gave 
signs  of  feeling  himself  at  home  again  and  of  recog- 
nizing his  master. 

"'Xcuse  me  for  not  noticin'  ye  before,"  said 
Uncle  Gray,  putting  up  a  husky  palm  to  shake 
hands  with  Mr.  Badger  in  the  wagon.  "  I  was 
struck  all  in  a  heap  seein'  my  hoss  agin." 

Eli  gave  a  not  very  good-natured  grunt. 

"  If  anybody's  to  be  struck  in  a  heap,  seems  's 
though  it's  me,"  he  said.  "  Your  gain  is  my  loss." 

"  How  so  ?  Where'd  ye  find  him  ? "  Uncle  Gray 
turned  upon  Christopher.  "  How  did  ye  bring  it 
about  ? " 

It  was  Brunlow  who  stole  him,"  Kit  explained, 
243 


244  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"and  he   sold  him  to  this  Mr.  Badger  for  seventy 
dollars." 

"Seventy  gimcracks ! "  ejaculated  Uncle  Gray, 
aghast.  "Any  fool  might  know  he's  wuth  twice 
that."  He  was  thinking  of  Brunlow,  but  Eli  applied 
the  remark  to  himself. 

"  I  did  know  it,"  he  growled.  "  That's  why  I 
bought  him.  And  mighty  glad  I  am  I  didn't  pay 
no  more." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Uncle  Gray.  "  But  didn't  it 
occur  to  you  that  no  honest  man  would  want  to  sell 
an  honest  hoss  like  that  for  any  such  price  ? " 

"  I  didn't  know,"  said  Eli,  groutily.  "  He  told  a 
pooty  straight  story.  I  got  took  in,  that's  all." 

"  I  should  say,  took  in ! "  exclaimed  Uncle  Gray. 
"  I  know  the  knave,  and  I'm  amazed  that  any  man 
with  common  sense  and  eyes  in  his  head  shouldn't 
'a'  seen  through  him." 

"  Mabby  I  haint  got  common  sense,  and  mabby  I 
haint  got  eyes  in  my  head,"  Eli  muttered,  with  dull 
fire  in  the  place  where  eyes  should  have  been,  if  he 
had  had  any.  "  But  I  didn't  expect  this." 

Kit  hastened  to  interpose  between  the  two  men. 

"  I  got  on  Dandy's  track  again  yesterday  in 
Peaceville,  and  followed  him  last  night  to  Mr. 
Badger's  place  in  Southrnere.  And  to-day  —  he 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  245 

has  been  very  kind"  —  the  boy's  voice  faltered  a 
little  — "  he  and  Miss  Badger  have  been  so  kind  as 
to  bring  me  home  with  Dandy.  And  I'm  ever  so 
much  obliged  to  them." 

"  Certain  !  certain  !  so  am  I,"  said  Uncle  Gray. 
"  Ever  so  much  obliged  !  I'm  rej'iced  to  see  the 
hoss  agin,  and  you  tew,  Christopher.  You've  done 
well,  boy !  you've  done  well.  Come  in,  won't  ye,  all 
of  ye  ? " 

"  Can't  stop,"  grumbled  Eli. 

"  We'd  be  delighted,"  said  Lydia,  hastening  to 
soften  his  blunt  refusal,  "  but  we  mutht  be  driving 
back  home." 

"A-drivin'!"  echoed  Uncle  Gray,  with  a  jealous 
glance  at  Dandy  Jim.  "  I  don't  see  jest  how  you're 
a-gun  ter  du  that." 

Then  Christopher  spoke  up.  "  I  promised  them 
—  I  don't  suppose  they  would  have  driven  over  to 
let  you  identify  the  horse  if  I  hadn't  promised  that 
they  should  have  him  to  drive  home  again." 

"  You  !  promised !  by  what  right  ? "  said  Uncle 
Gray. 

"  I  thought  it  fair,"  Kit  replied.  "  And  it  was 
certainly  the  easiest  way  to  get  the  horse.  Better 
than  to  have  to  take  witnesses  over  there,  or  send  an 
officer  to  seize  him." 


246  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

"  Possible  !  possible  ! "  mused  Uncle  Gray. 

"He  can  ride  home  with  uth,"  said  Lydia, 
"thpend  the  night,  and  bring  the  hoth  back  here  to- 
morrow." 

"That's  the  plan  we  spoke  of,"  added  Christopher. 

"And  a  very  good  plan  it  is,"  said  Aunt  Gray. 
"  So  now  all  come  into  the  house.  The  tea-kittle's 
a-b'ilin',  and  I'll  have  a  cup  o'  tea  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  I've  got  some  new  bread,  baked  to-day  ;  't  wont 
be  much  in  the  way  of  supper,  but  with  some  slices 
of  dried  beef,  and  new  honey,  and  pear-sass,  it'll  be 
better'n  nothin'  'fore  ye  start  for  your  long  ride 
back." 

At  the  mention  of  the  honey,  Uncle  Gray  looked 
as  if  he  hoped  the  invitation  would  be  refused,  and 
Eli  was  still  glum.  But  Lydia  stepped  lightly  from 
the  buggy,  reaching  a  hand  down  to  Christopher, 
and  saying :  — 

"  I  beg  you  won't  give  yourthelf  any  trouble  about 
thupper,  Mith'  Gray.  If  you'll  promithe  that,  we'll 
thtop.  Come,  pa !  " 

The  widow  thought  she  could  not  stay  for  Aunt 
Gray's  tea.  Her  anxiety  of  mind  regarding  Chris- 
topher having  been  so  happily  relieved,  she  felt  that 
she  must  hasten  back  to  her  own  little  home  in  the 
village. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

"  If  you  go  over,  you  will  have  to  walk,  and  you 
won't  gain  anything,"  said  Kit.  "  After  supper  you 
can  ride  with  us." 

So  she  consented  to  remain.  And  Kit  was  happy. 
Dandy  was  in  his  stall,  Uncle  Gray  having  thought 
it  wise  to  take  full  possession  of  him,  by  detaching 
him  from  Eli's  wagon  before  letting  him  go  back  to 
Southmere.  The  whole  affair  had  been  arranged 
quite  to  the  boy's  satisfaction,  and  but  two  or  three 
things  remained  to  trouble  him. 

There  was  that  unpleasant  business  connected 
with  the  justice's  court  in  Duckford  ;  he  could  not 
forget  that  he  had  been  committed  to  jail,  and  re- 
leased only  through  the  intervention  of  Elsie's 
father,  who  had  given  bonds  for  his  appearance 
when  wanted. 

Then  there  was  the  question  of  his  future  home. 
He  was  not  eager  to  come  back  and  live  with  Uncle 
Gray,  nor  was  he  at  all  sure  that  Uncle  Gray  would 
want  him  again  on  any  terms.  Eli's  offer  did  not 
enchant  him,  yet  it  was  something  which  he  was 
afraid  he  ought  not  to  refuse  before  consulting  his 
mother. 

The  last  vestiges  of  Uncle  Gray's  asthmatic 
wheeze  seemed  to  have  yielded  to  the  stimulus  of 
joyful  events ;  and  at  the  tea-table  he  was  in  his 


248  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

best  spirits.  He  made  friends  with  Eli,  and  even 
asked  Lydia  to  take  a  second  dish  of  honey.  He 
talked  cheerfully  of  the  little  drama  in  which  Dandy 
Jim  had  borne  a  part,  and  said  that  he  now  regretted 
only  one  thing  —  the  escape  of  Brunlow. 

"  I'd  like  to  squeeze  about  seventy  dollars  out  of 
his  soul  and  gizzard ! "  muttered  Eli  through  his 
set  jaws. 

Kit,  of  course,  had  to  tell  of  his  Duckford  adven- 
ture. His  mother  was  frightened  at  the  bare 
thought  of  his  having  been  in  the  hands  of  a  con- 
stable ;  but  Uncle  Gray  was  in  a  mood  to  be 
amused. 

"The  honestest  boy  in  the  county!"  he  declared, 
turning  to  the  Badgers.  "  Whatever  else  I  say  of 
him,  I'll  say  that.  Taken  for  a  hoss-thief !  Wai, 
wal ;  f'r  instance  ! " 

"We  all  know  he  'th  honetht ! "  lisped  Miss 
Lydia,  giving  Kit  a  significant  smile,  remembering 
how  recently  he  had  been  mistaken  for  a  thief  of 
another  sort.  Kit  blushed,  and  scowled  deprecat- 
ingly  in  return,  hoping  that  his  last  mishap  would 
not  be  mentioned,  at  least  in  his  mother's  presence. 

"  What's  become  of  the  saddle  ?  "  Aunt  Gray  in- 
quired, her  large  face  glowing  with  satisfaction  over 
the  tea-pot  she  was  liberally  tipping. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  249 

M  I  Jeft  that  and  the  bridle  with  the  Bentings," 
Kit  replied.  "  It's  my  idea  to  go  that  way  to-mor- 
row with  Dandy,  and  bring  them  home  —  I  mean," 
he  quickly  corrected  himself,  "bring  them  here" 

"  Wai !  "  said  Aunt  Gray,  "  what's  the  difference  ? 
Aint  this  your  home,  as  it  has  been,  and  as  we 
expect  it'll  continue  to  be  in  the  future  ? " 

Kit  did  not  cherish  any  very  deep  resentment 
against  Uncle  Gray;  still  he  thought  that  worthy 
man  had  been  quite  as  severe  with  him  as  circum- 
stances required,  and  he  was  glad  to  be  able  to  say 
independently :  — 

"  I  don't  know,  aunt.  Maybe  I  can  be  more  useful 
somewhere  else.  I've  had  a  good  offer." 

"  An  offer  ! "  Uncle  Gray  lifted  his  hooked  nose 
and  bristling  forelock  with  a  quick,  disturbed  ex- 
pression. "  What's  the  meanin"  o'  that  ? " 

"  Pa  would  like  to  have  him  go  and  live  with  uth," 
said  Miss  Badger,  while  Mr.  Badger  was  preparing 
to  speak.  "  We'll  pay  him  well." 

"  I  haven't  agreed  to  it,"  said  Kit,  "  for  I  thought 
I  ought  to  wait  and  see  what  mother  would  say." 

"  Oh !  Christopher ! "  exclaimed  the  widow. 
"  You  know  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  you  go  so 
far  away." 

"  I  thought  of  that,"  Kit  replied.     "  Yet  I  knew 


250  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

you  would  think  it  better  for  me  to  be  earning  stated 
wages,  than  do  as  I  have  been  doing  here.  And 
since  Uncle  Gray  is  dissatisfied  with  me  —  as  he  has 
good  reason  to  be — " 

He  hesitated,  and  Eli  Badger  struck  in :  — 

"  I  never  seen  a  boy  before  't  I  thought  I  should 
like  so  well.  I'm  wantin'  jes'  such  a  boy." 

"  I  haven't  any  brother,"  added  Lydia,  giving  the 
widow  a  persuasive  smile.  "  It  would  be  tho  nithe 
if  he  could  come  ! " 

Evidently  the  subject  had  been  talked  over  by  her 
and  her  father  before  it  was  mentioned  to  Kit  on  the 
road.  It  was  not  an  agreeable  one  to  Uncle  Gray. 
His  hair  seemed  to  grow  more  bristly,  his  counte- 
nance more  and  more  alarmed.  Even  his  "bronichal 
tubes  "  appeared  again  suddenly  to  be  affected.  He 
was  beginning  to  hiss  and  sizzle. 

"  What's  all  this  about  ? "  he  frowningly  inquired. 
"  Christopher  can't  go  to  nobody  else ;  he's  engaged 
to  me.  I  ben  thinkin'  some  time  o'  payin'  him 
somethin'  reg'lar ;  and  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
"low  him  a  hundred  dollars  this  year,  'sides  clothin' 
and  eatin'  him." 

He  gave  the  boy  and  his  mother  a  heroic  look,  as 
if  it  had  cost  him  a  struggle  to  arrive  at  so  liberal  a 
resolution. 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  25  I 

"  No,  I  can't  spare  Christopher !  I'm  a-gittin 
along  in  years,"  he  added,  pathetically ;  "  and  my 
azmy  's  more  terrible  'an  ever.  'Twon't  be  long  'fore 
I  sh'll  be  slippin'  my  neck  out  o'  the  yoke,  while  he 
slips  his'n  in,  and  hauls  the  load  for  me.  He's  got 
one  fault,  and  it's  gin  us  some  trouble,  but  he's 
graj'ally  outgrowin'  on't,  and  he's  a-gun  to  outgrow 
it  altogether.  He  takes  holt  smart ;  and  I  believe 
he's  in  the  right  place.  Thought  I  might  let  him  go 
and  live  with  you,  did  ye  ? "  — staring  in  amazement 
at  Eli.  "  Wai,  f'r  instance  !  " 

The  widow's  countenance  shone  with  pleasure ; 
while  Kit  could  hardly  keep  from  laughing  outright 
as  he  left  the  room  to  go  up  stairs  and  make  a 
change  of  clothing  before  riding  back  to  Southmere 
with  the  Badgers. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ELSIE'S    THIMBLE    AND    SCISSORS. 

T^HE  next  morning,  Elsie  Benting  sat  sewing  and 
singing  in  the  old  farm-house  at  Maple  Park,  in 
Duckford,  when  the  stout  serving-woman  from  the 
kitchen  looked  in  upon  her. 

"  You  don't  wish  any  broken  crockery  mended,  or 
tin  pans  soldered,  do  you  ?  Or  would  you  like  to 
buy  any  patent  solder  or  cement  ?  A  man  here  has 
some  that  he  claims  will  do  wonders." 

"No,"  said  Elsie,  hardly  looking  up  from  her 
sewing.  "  You  know  I  can't  attend  to  anything  of 
that  kind  when  mother 's  away." 

" So  I  told  him,"  replied  the  servant.  "But  he's 
very  urgent ;  he  won't  take  '  no '  for  an  answer. 
He  insists  on  seeing  the  lady  of  the  house." 

"  I'm  not  the  lady  of  the  house,  tell  him  !  " 

As  she  spoke,  Elsie  started  up  indignantly.  The 
persistent  peddler  had  followed  the  servant,  and  was 
already  pushing  into  the  room  where  the  young  girl 
was. 

*$» 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  253 

"  You  need  not  buy  anything  of  me  if  you  do  not 
wish,"  he  said,  with  polite  effrontery.  "But  give 
me  a  broken  plate,  or  a  leaky  pan,  and  let  me  show 
you  in  about  a  minute  and  a  half  what  my  solder  and 
cement  will  do." 

"  We  don't  want  anything  of  the  kind,"  said  Elsie, 
with  spirit,  wondering  at  the  same  time  where  she 
had  seen  that  face  and  heard  that  voice. 

"  You  can  use  the  solder  yourself,"  her  visitor 
insisted,  with  brazen  blandness.  "Any  child  can 
use  it  to  mend  any  sort  of  tinware  ;  a  very  great 
convenience,  as  every  housekeeper  knows  who  has 
tried  it.  I  am  a  plumber  and  tinner  myself,  and  I 
am  aware  that  I  am  spoiling  my  own  trade  when  I 
offer  such  an  article  for  sale.  But  why  have  leaky 
basins  and  dippers,  or  why  employ  a  mechanic,  when 
you  can  do  your  own  repairs  at  a  trifling  expense  ? " 

"  But  when  I  tell  you  distinctly,"  said  Elsie, 
rising,  with  sparkling  eyes,  "that  we  don't  wish  for 
anything  — "  Suddenly  she  stopped,  as  if  inter- 
rupted by  a  bewildering  thought. 

"  Or  my  patent  cement,"  the  fellow  rattled  on, 
showing  packages  which  he  produced  from  a  bag  he 
carried.  "  Think  how  often  you  fracture  a  bowl  or 
a  vase,  and  it  must  go  into  the  waste-barrel  for  want 
of  a  slight  outlay  —  a  minute's  work  and  a  cent's 


254  HIS   ONE    FAULT. 

worth  of  this  truly  magical  substance  which  I  offer 
for  sale." 

Elsie  appeared  mollified. 

"  Excuse  me,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  I  will  let  you 
try  your  cement  on  —  let  me  see  —  what  have  we, 
Dorothy  ?  Sit  down,  if  you  please  !  " 

The  pedler  smilingly  seated  himself,  and  glanced 
quickly  about  the  room,  while  Elsie  followed  the 
servant  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Anything  !  "  whispered  the  girl,  eagerly  ;  "  the 
dish-cover  that  had  the  knob  broken  off  the  other 
day  —  give  him  that.  And  any  old  plate.  Keep 
him  till  I  come  back  !  " 

She  darted  from  the  back  door,  and  ran  with 
slippered  feet  and  bare  head  to  the  orchard,  where 
the  boys  were  gathering  apples.  Charley  was  on  a 
wagon  with  some  baskets  under  a  tree.  Lon  was  in 
the  branches,  and  Tom  up  a  ladder,  when  she 
appeared,  breathless  with  running  and  excitement, 
and  told  them  who  was  in  the  house. 

"Are  you  sure?"  cried  Tom.  "We  don't  wish  to 
make  another  mistake." 

"  Oh,  I  know  ! "  exclaimed  Elsie.  "  It's  the  right 
one,  this  time.  I  never  shall  forget  that  face ! 
Come  !  Come,  quickly  as  you  can ! " 

She  hurried  back  to  the  house,  accompanied  by 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  255 

Charley,  while  Tom  slipped  down  the  ladder  and 
Lon  dropped  from  the  boughs. 

The  retailer  of  magical  substances,  adjusting  the 
knob  of  the  dish-cover  in  the  sitting-room  where 
Elsie  had  left  him,  was  somewhat  disconcerted  to 
see  her  return  with  Charley,  followed  immediately 
by  Lon  and  Tom. 

"  Hello  ! "  he  said,  looking  up,  while  he  pressed 
the  knob  in  place. 

"  Hello ! "  Lon  replied,  advancing  resolutely 
toward  him.  "  I  think  I've  seen  you  before." 

"Great  Grimes  T"  said  the  tinker,  with  a  laugh, 
"  I  believe  you !  How  did  you  get  out  of  that 
scrape  ?  I've  thought  of  it  a  hundred  times,  always 
regretting  that  I  was  obliged  to  leave  you  on  the 
roadside,  with  your  wagon  and  harness  minus  a 
horse!" 

He  spoke  with  gay  volubility ;  but  his  hand  was 
unsteady,  and  the  knob  slipped  from  its  place. 

"  No  doubt  you've  found  it  very  funny,"  said  Lon, 
"  but  our  recollections  of  you  haven't  been  so  pleas- 
ant." 

"Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  the  tinker,  rising  and 
casting  a  quick  look  behind  him.  "  I  hope  you  got 
your  horse ! " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  Tom,  walking  around  to  the  door 


256  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

on  the  other  side  of  the  room,  beyond  the  visitor, 
"and  the.  little  fellow  who  took  him." 

"  And  now,"  added  Lon,  "  we've  got  the  big  fel 
low  who  helped  the  little  fellow  who  took  him." 

"  Oh,  got  two  of  them,  have  you  ? "  the  tinker 
retorted,  with  an  effort  at  cheerfulness.  "  Glad  to 
hear  it.  I  give  this  up  as  a  bad  job,  miss,"  turning 
to  Elsie.  "  You  won't  take  any  of  my  cement,  I 
suppose.  Sorry  to  have  troubled  you." 

He  returned  his  packages  to  the  bag,  which  he 
shut,  and  started  toward  the  door. 

"  It  is  a  bad  job  —  for  you,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Lon. 
"You'll  find  that  we  can  stick  to  you  without 
cement ! " 

"Why,  gentlemen,"  said  the  tinker,  feigning  as- 
tonishment, "  what's  your  business  with  me  ? " 

"  You  helped  that  boy  off  with  our  horse,  and  we 
have  good  reason  to  believe  you  had  stolen  his  horse 
first.  Your  name  is  Brunlow." 

"That's  my  name,  if  I  know  myself,"  Cassius  ad- 
mitted. "  But  what  you  are  talking  about  is  more 
than  I  can  comprehend." 

"  Go  with  us  and  you'll  find  out,"  said  Tom. 

"  Go  where  ?  "  inquired  Brunlow. 

"To  a  justice  of  the  peace." 

"  I'll  go  with  you  when  you  have  an  officer  with  a 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  257 

warrant  to  take  me,"  said  Brunlow.  "Till  then, 
don't  you  dare  lay  hands  on  me  —  not  one  of  you ) 
I  haven't  stolen  your  horse,  nor  helped  anybody 
steal  it.  Now,  take  my  advice  —  mind  your  own 
business  and  let  me  alone." 

He  had  a  wicked  look,  evidently  meaning  to  show 
fight  if  the  boys  did  not  let  him  pass.  Elsie  looked 
on  in  terror,  half  regretting  what  she  had  done. 
Meanwhile,  conscience  was  making  a  coward  of  Lon. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  boys,"  he  said,  "that  if 
our  horse  was  taken  by  mistake,  nobody  stole  him, 
and  I  don't  know  what  charge  we  can  bring  against 
this  fellow." 

"  And  I've  been  thinking  too,"  said  Tom,  "  that 
his  stealing  the  other  horse  isn't  our  affair.  I  sup- 
pose we  shall  have  to  let  him  go." 

"  That's  where  you're  wise,  gentlemen,"  remarked 
Brunlow,  grinning  with  a  greenish-yellow  face. 
"  Thank  you ! "  he  added,  with  mock  politeness, 
as  Lon  stepped  aside  for  him.  "  Sorry  I  couldn't 
trade  with  you  to-day,  miss  !  Good  day ! " 

The  Bentings  were  all  so  sure  he  was  a  rogue  that 
Elsie  was  ready  to  cry  with  vexation  (thinking,  per- 
haps, of  Kit's  wrongs),  and  the  boys  were  highly 
chagrined  at  their  own  unheroic  conduct  in  letting 
him  off  so  easily. 


258  HIS   ONE  FAULT. 

"  If  I'd  been  sure  we  had  a  right  to  take  him,  I 
wouldn't  have  minded  his  bluster,"  said  Lon. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Tom.  "  Our  mistake  the  other  day 
has  made  me  think  twice  when  I  go  catching  horse- 
thieves." 

"  See  the  scamp  swaggering  along  the  road ! 
laughing  in  his  sleeve  at  us,  I've  no  doubt !  "  ex- 
claimed Charley. 

"  I  wish  I  was  certain  we  had  the  least  claim  on 
him,"  said  Lon,  his  courage  rising  again. 

"  I'd  like  no  better  fun  than  to  tackle  him,"  mut- 
tered the  ferocious  Tom. 

"  /  wouldn't  have  let  him  go  !  "  declared  Charley. 

While  they  followed  him  thus  courageously  with 
their  eyes,  but  not  at  all  with  their  feet,  Brunlow 
was  indeed  laughing  in  his  sleeve,  and  congratulating 
himself  on  his  lucky  escape. 

"  I  thought  't  was  all  up  with  me,  for  a  minute," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  How  under  the  sun  did  it  hap- 
pen that  I  should  come  to  the  house  of  those  fellows 
I  saw  at  Peaceville  ?  Well,  they  won't  see  me  here 
again  very  soon." 

He  was  walking  away  at  a  brisk  pace,  when  some- 
thing caused  Elsie  to  think  of  her  work-basket, 
examined  it  hastily,  and  cried  out :  — 

"  Oh,  my  thimble  !  he  has  taken  my  best  thimble ! " 


'  Brunlow  broke  into  a  run." 


259. 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  259 

Brunlow  had  in  fact  practised  that  light-fingered 
industry  of  his  once  too  often.  He  was  well  aware 
of  the  unfortunate  circumstance,  when,  casting  fur- 
tive glances  behind,  he  saw  two  of  the  brothers  come 
out  of  the  maple  grove  before  the  house  and  start 
toward  him  with  an  excitement  of  manner  which  did 
not  seem  to  him  of  good  augury. 

"  Hold  on  ! "  called  Tom,  beckoning  him  back, 
"if  you  want  to  sell  some  of  your  solder." 

But  Brunlow  was  never  in  his  life  less  anxious  to 
make  sales  than  at  that  moment.  Instead  of  waiting 
for  the  boys  to  come  up  with  him,  he  quickened  his 
walk.  At  the  same  time  he  was  seen  to  take  some- 
thing from  his  pocket  and  give  it  a  little  fling  toward 
the  roadside. 

The  two  boys  continued  to  call  and  beckon,  to 
attract  his  attention ;  while  the  other  and  eldest 
brother  made  a  swift  detour  of  the  fields  to  head  him 
off.  Discovering  this  movement  when  Lon  was 
nearly  abreast  of  him,  Brunlow  broke  into  a 
run. 

An  interesting  race  followed,  Lon  running  in  the 
field  and  Brunlow  in  the  road,  while  Tom  followed 
at  a  distance.  Cassius  was  fleet  of  foot,  but  he  had 
his  bag  to  bother  him,  and  he  soon  perceived  that  in 
the  kind  of  endurance  denominated  "  wind,"  he  was 


26O  HIS   ONE   FAULT. 

no  match  for  the  sturdy  young  farmers.  He 
stopped,  and  turned  defiantly. 

"  Well !  what's  the  trouble  now  ? "  he  demanded; 
as  Lon  leaped  over  the  roadside  wall. 

"You've  my  sister's  thimble,"  said  Lon. 

"  It's  a  false  charge,"  replied  Brunlow.  "  Don't 
you  touch  me  ! "  He  snatched  something  from  his 
pocket,  which  flew  open  in  his  hand,  and  became  a 
shining  dirk. 

"  False  or  not,"  said  Lon,  "  strike  one  of  us  with 
that  knife  and  you  will  have  a  worse  charge  to 
answer." 

Tom,  at  the  same  time,  came  rushing  to  the  spot, 
and  Charley  was  not  far  off.  The  Benting  blood 
was  up  in  all  of  them,  —  their  courage  no  longer 
honeycombed  with  doubts  as  to  their  right  to 
capture  a  scoundrel. 

"  If  a  thimble  is  all  you  want,  you  can  search  me," 
said  Cassius  ;  "but  promise  to  let  me  go  if  you  don't 
find  it." 

"  Don't  promise  that,"  Tom  cried,  breathlessly  ; 
"  he  threw  something  away  when  he  saw  us  coming. 
Did  you  find  it  ? "  he  shouted  back  at  Charley,  who 
had  remained  to  search  the  roadside. 

Charley  held  up  something  as  he  ran.  It  was  not 
a  thimble,  but  a  pair  of  scissors. 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  26 1 

"  So  he  took  her  scissors,  too ! "  said  Tom. 
"Elsie  didn't  know  that." 

"  You  may  as  well  give  up,  Brunlow  !  "  Lon  said. 
"Put  away  your  knife,  and  go  with  us  peaceably,  or 
you'll  be  knocked  down  and  dragged."  With  these 
words,  he  took  a  step  forward  and  stood  sternly 
facing  the  coward. 

For  coward  Cassius  was,  with  all  his  recklessness 
and  bluster.  He  dropped  his  hand  to  his  side,  still 
holding  the  open  knife. 

"  Shut  it,  I  say !  "  ordered  Lon. 

As  Brunlow  still  hesitated,  backing  off  and  remon- 
strating, Lon  sprang  upon  him,  seizing  his  arm 
before  it  could  be  raised  to  strike. 

"Grip  him,  boys!"  cried  Lon,  and  in  a  moment 
Brunlow  was  disarmed  and  a  prisoner. 

"  Now,  what  do  you  want  of  me,  my  fine  fellows  ? " 
he  said,  assuming  an  air  of  innocence.  "Why  do 
you  accuse  me  about  those  scissors  that  you  found 
back  there?  I  thought  it  was  a  thimble  that  you 
said  you  wanted." 

"  That's  just  what  we  do  want,"  said  Lon. 

"  Search  me,  then  !  "  said  Brunlow. 

"That,  again,  is  precisely  what  we  propose  to  do," 
was  the  reply. 

Cassius  emptied  his  pockets  for  them,  and  they 


262  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

examined  the  contents  of  his  bag.  In  it  they  found, 
in  addition  to  his  cement  and  solder,  a  pair  of  silver 
forks,  a  dessertspoon,  and  three  teaspoons,  but  no 
thimble. 

"  You  see,  my  friends,"  said  Brunlow,  "  you  have 
no  hold  on  me  whatever.  You  don't  claim  that 
you've  lost  a  pair  of  scissors ;  and  I've  no  thimble. 
Now,  my  advice  to  you  is  to  save  yourselves  and  me 
trouble  by  selecting  any  of  these  articles  you  like, 
accepting  them  with  my  compliments,  and  letting 
me  proceed  about  my  business." 

"  We  don't  care  to  accept  stolen  property,  which 
I've  no  doubt  this  is,"  said  Lon.  "  Give  another 
look  for  the  thimble,  Charley,  where  you  found  the 
scissors.  Here,  Elsie !  " 

As  the  frightened  girl  advanced  to  meet  her 
brothers  returning  with  their  prisoner,  Lon  held  up 
something. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  these  before  ?  " 

"  They  look  like  my  scissors ;  they  must  be ! " 
said  Elsie;  "though  I  hadn't  missed  them." 

"  Go  back  and  examine  your  work-basket,  and 
make  sure,  please,"  said  Lon. 

She  was  gone  but  a  few  minutes,  when  she 
returned,  exclaiming :  "  They  have  been  taken ! 
That  pair  must  be  mine ! " 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  263 

About  the  same  time,  Charley,  after  some  further 
search  in  the  roadside  grass,  cried,  "  Eureka ! " 
He  had  found  a  thimble,  which  Elsie  immediately 
identified. 

"You  see  how  it  is,  Mr.  Brunlow,"  said  Tom, 
exultingly. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  replied  Cassius,  recklessly. 
"You've  caught  me!  But  you  needn't  hang 
on  to  my  arm  so  hard.  I'm  not  going  to  get 
away." 

"  I  don't  imagine  you  are !  "  laughed  Lon. 

"  But  you're  going  to  take  a  sensible  view  of  the 
situation,  —  aren't  you?"  said  Brunlow.  "You 
can't  gain  anything  by  keeping  me ;  you've  re- 
covered your  scissors  and  thimble.  Now,  if  you 
object  to  receiving  the  trifles  I  have  come  by  in  the 
way  of  business,  take  what  money  I  have  in  my 
pocket-book,  call  it  an  even  thing,  and  say  good-by. 
How's  that  for  a  fair  proposal  ?" 

"  It's  a  proposal  we  can  no  more  accept  than  we 
can  take  your  miscellaneous  plunder ! "  said  Lon. 
"  Bring  around  the  horse  and  wagon  from  the 
orchard,  Charley,  while  Tom  and  I  cultivate  the 
acquaintance  of  this  slippery  gentleman." 

The  wagon  was  brought,  the  baskets  of  apples 
were  taken  out,  and  the  seats  put  in  ;  and  in  a  few 


264  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

minutes  the  boys  were  ready  to  set  off  for  town  with 
their  captive. 

"  I  owe  this  to  you,  miss  !  I  shall  remember  the 
favor !  "  said  Brunlow,  looking  back  with  a  malicious 
glance  at  Elsie,  standing  in  the  door  to  see  them 
start. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

KIT    COMES    FOR   THE   SADDLE   AND    BRIDLE. 


made  no  reply,  but  stood  gazing  after 
them,  under  the  broad  shadows  of  the  autumn- 
tinted  maples,  —  remembering,  perhaps,  with  what 
different  feelings  she  had  lately  watched  the  depart- 
ure of  her  brothers  with  another  prisoner,  —  when  a 
well  dressed  and  tolerably  good-looking  boy  on  horse- 
back might  have  been  seen  approaching  from  the 
opposite  direction. 

She  did  not  notice  him  until,  having  watched  the 
wagon  out  of  sight,  she  turned  to  re-enter  the  house. 
Just  then  he  reined  his  slowly  pacing  horse  up  under 
the  trees.  She  looked  around,  but  failed  to  recog- 
nize him  at  first. 

"  You  don't  remember  me,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

The  same  smile  with  which  he  had  bidden  her 
good-by  beneath  those  very  trees  ;  yet  not  quite  the 
same.  In  his  best  attire,  having  exchanged  his  every- 
day clothes  for  his  Sunday  suit,  and  his  white  base- 
ball cap  for  a  neat  brown  felt  hat,  likewise  his  mood 

265 


266  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

of  despair  for  one  of  hope  and  gladness,  he  appeared 
very  much  changed  to  her  eyes.  And  yet  she  knew 
that  smile. 

In  a  moment  she  forgot  the  cause  of  her  recent 
excitement,  in  this  new  and  joyful  surprise. 

"  Remember  you  !  of  course  I  do  !  "  She  noticed 
that  he  was  mounted  on  a  dark-colored  horse,  which 
he  rode  with  only  a  blanket  and  halter.  "  You  have 
found  your  horse  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  blushing  Christopher ;  "  arid  I 
have  come  for  the  saddle  and  bridle." 

"  What  good  news  !  "  She  could  hardly  refrain 
from  clapping  her  hands  as  she  added  :  "  Father 
and  all  will  be  so  glad !  But  they  are  away.  You 
must  stay  and  see  them." 

"  That  will  be  very  agreeable,"  said  Kit,  with 
bashful  pleasure,  as  he  slipped  from  the  animal's 
blanketed  back  to  the  ground. 

"  I  hope  you  have  got  the  right  horse  this  time  ! " 
said  Elsie,  archly.  "  How  much  I  have  thought  of 
that  strange  mistake  you  made." 

"Well,  /  have  thought  of  it  once  or  twice!"  said 
Christopher,  standing,  halter  and  hat  in  hand, 
and  answering  her  radiant  laugh  with  a  happy  yet 
embarrassed  smile.  "It  got  me  into  scrapes 
enough!  This  is  our  Dandy;  I  must  introduce 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  267 

you  to  him.  Dandy,  this  is  Miss  Benting;  slle 
was  my  friend,  when  I  thought  I  hadn't  another  in 
the  world." 

He  spoke  gayly,  yet  with  a  tender  emotion  glisten- 
ing in  his  honest  blue  eyes. 

"Dandy,  I'm  delighted  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance ! "  said  Elsie,  touched  by  his  grateful  words, 
but  hiding  the  quick  feeling  they  called  forth,  in  the 
gentle  act  of  caressing  the  horse's  nose.  Then 
turning  again  to  Christopher,  "  Where  did  you  find 
him  ? "  she  inquired. 

Kit  told  how  he  had  traced  him  to  Southmere,  and 
engaged  Mr.  Badger  to  drive  him  over  to  East 
Adam,  omitting  from  the  narrative  some  unimpor- 
tant particulars,  such  as  the  mishap  of  his  head  com- 
ing in  contact  with  Eli's  club. 

"I  rode  back  to  Southmere  with  him  last  night," 
he  added,  omitting  also  all  mention  of  Miss  Badger, 
to  whom  he  owed  so  much  ;  "passed  the  night  there, 
and  started  to  ride  over  here  as  soon  as  I  could  con- 
veniently get  away  this  morning.  The  family  were 
very  kind  to  me,  and  would  have  kept  me  all  day  if 
they  could." 

"  But  you  must  spend  the  day  with  us ! "  Elsie 
declared.  "  Take  your  horse  to  the  stable,  won't 
you?  I'll  show  you  the  way.  But,  oh!"  she  ex- 


268  HIS    ONE    FAULT. 

claimed,  "  I've  such  a  wonderful  bit  of  news  for  you  ! 
When  you've  heard  it,  I'm  afraid  you  will  wish  to 
ride  on  after  my  brothers,  who  have  gone  to  the  vil- 
lage with  — you  never  can  guess  whom  ! " 

Indeed,  Kit  was  unable  to  make  any  guess  at  all ; 
and  he  could  hardly  credit  his  bewildered  wits  when 
she  told  him  of  the  capture  of  Brunlow. 

"  Brunlow !  that  fellow  !     Are  you  sure  ? " 

He  remembered  that  it  was  a  world  of  blunders 
he  had  been  moving  in  for  the  past  few  days  • 
and  the  tidings  seemed  to  him  quite  too  good  to 
be  true. 

"  I  am  perfectly  sure,"  replied  Elsie.  "  There 
can't  possibly  be  any  mistake  about  my  brothers' 
having  caught  a  real  rogue  —  your  rogue  —  this 
time." 

"Where's  my  saddle?"  cried  the  excited  Christo- 
pher. 

A  minute  before,  he  thought  only  of  the  happiness 
that  rose  enticingly  before  him,  when  she  suggested 
his  spending  the  day  at  Maple  Park.  But  the  pleas- 
ing picture  which  filled  his  mind's  eye  was  dashed 
rudely  into  the  background  by  this  astonishing  piece 
of  news,  and  he  hurriedly  threw  upon  Dandy's  back 
the  saddle  which  she  showed  him. 

"You  will   come   back   here  to  dinner  with   my 


HIS    ONE    FAULT.  269 

brothers  ? "  she  said,  as  he  put  foot  in  stirrup  and 
mounted  from  the  threshold  of  the  barn. 

"If  you  wish  it,  I  shall  be  pleased  to,  —  that  is," 
he  added,  laughingly,  "if  you  think  they  won't 
object  to  sitting  at  the  same  table  with  me!" 

"  Do  you  remember  that  ?  "  she  said.  "  They're 
dreadfully  ashamed  of  it,  and  they'll  be  only  too 
glad  to  have  you  stay.  Good-by  —  till  then." 

Waving  his  hand  at  her  with  a  bright  smile  and  a 
'oyful  promise,  he  was  off. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

HOW  BRUNLOW  KNOCKED  DOWN  THE  PEG. 

Benting  boys  had  taken  their  prisoner  to  the 
•*-     office  of  the  Duckford  justice,  who  was  absent, 
and  Charley  had  gone  to  hunt  him   up  and  find  a 
constable,    when    Kit    rode   to   the   door   which   he 
remembered  so  well. 

Three  faces,  which  he  also  remembered  very  well 
indeed,  greeted  him  from  within  as  he  dismounted 
and  stood  holding  Dandy's  bridle  on  the  doorstep ; 
Lon's  in  the  foreground,  Tom's  in  the  rear,  and 
Brunlow's  sallow  and  cynical  visage  between. 

The  Bentings  recognized  him  immediately,  even 
without  his  white  cap ;  and  they  likewise  knew  the 
horse,  which  they  had  once  had  in  their  possession 
for  a  memorable  quarter  of  an  hour,  —  a  very  good 
match,  they  agreed,  for  the  one  Kit  had  ridden  off  in 
his  place. 

They  greeted  him  joyfully,  and  if  a  doubt  as  to  Kit's 
honesty  lingered  in  their  minds,  it  must  have  been 
quickly  dispelled  when  they  witnessed  the  meeting 
between  him  and  his  supposed  accomplice. 

270 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  2/T 

"  Cash  Brunlow !  "  cried  Kit,  eagerly,  "  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  !  " 

Brunlow,  standing  between  his  sturdy  young 
guards,  shrugged  and  grinned,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Do  you  pretend  you  don't  know  me  ?  or  that  you 
never  saw  this  horse  before  ? "  demanded  the  indig- 
nant Christopher. 

"I  know  you  very  well,"  Brunlow  replied;  "and 
I  fancy  I've  seen  that  horse.  They  say  I  saddled 
the  wrong  one  for  you,"  and  he  couldn't  help  laugh- 
ing maliciously  at  the  merry  recollection. 

"  You  think  you  can  make  a  joke  of  it,  do  you?" 
said  Kit,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"  My  dear  boy,  it's  a  joke  already,  without  any 
help  from  me,"  replied  Cassius.  "Think  of  your 
looking  me  full  in  the  face,  and  describing  the 
person  who  had  been  seen  with  your  horse,  while  I 
took  note  of  the  particulars,  ready  to  burst  with 
laughter  all  the  while !  It's  the  richest  joke  of  the 
season,  and  I  hope  you  won't  try  to  make  anything 
else  of  it.  A  joke's  a  joke  ;  let  it  pass,  my  boy." 

Kit  regarded  the  "  sallow  complexion,  dark 
checked  suit,  and  narrow-brimmed  straw  hat,"  of  the 
"young  fellow  of  medium  height,  not  much  over 
twenty,"  and  blushed  very  red  indeed,  as  he  remem- 
bered how  he  had  described  Brunlow  to  himself. 


2/2  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

while  Brunlow,  reciting  each  item  of  the  inventory 
after  him,  gravely  checked  himself  off  on  his 
fingers. 

But  Christopher  did  not  believe  in  jokes  of  that 
sort. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "you  thought  that  a  joke, 
too,  when  you  took  this  horse  from  my  uncle's 
stable,  rode  him  to  Peaceville,  and  sold  him  to  Eli 
Badger  for  seventy  dollars.'  Where  is  all  that 
money  ?  " 

Brunlow  shrugged  again.  "  Not  much  of  it  has 
stayed  in  my  pocket,"  he  said,  which  was  true 
enough,  he  being  one  of  that  numerous  class  from 
whom,  as  the  proverb  says,  their  money  is  soon 
parted.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  loss  of  a  large  part  of 
the  price  of  Dandy  which  had  caused  him  to  take  to 
the  road  again  so  soon,  and  so  near  the  scene  of  his 
last  exploit. 

"You've  knocked  down  the  peg  with  the  ball 
swinging  the  wrong  way,  in  more  senses  than  one," 
said  Kit,  remembering  the  little  game  he  had  seen 
Cassius  practising  at  the  cattle-show,  and  the  high 
moral  tone  he  assumed  with  regard  to  such  things 
being  permitted  by  the  managers  of  a  county  fair. 

"  A  fellow  can't  always  be  in  luck,"  was  Brunlow's 
reckless  response. 


HIS   ONE   FAULT.  2/3 

"  Luck  ! "  exclaimed  Christopher.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve a  rogue  can  ever  be  in  luck,  no  matter  how 
well  he  seems  to  succeed  for  a  time.  Do  you  re- 
member, Cassius  Brunlow,  how  my  father  talked  to 
you  once  about  being  honest,  and  minding  your 
obligations  ?  I  overheard  what  he  was  saying,  but 
I  never  understood  the  meaning  of  it  till  now." 

"  I  remember  something  of  the  kind,"  replied 
Brunlow,  his  sinister  look  giving  place  to  a  more 
sober  expression.  "  Your  father  was  a  good  man ; 
he  gave  me  good  advice." 

"  I  wish  you  had  followed  it ! "  Kit  exclaimed, 
touched  by  his  frankness. 

"  I  shouldn't  be  here  if  I  had,"  Brunlow  replied. 

Kit  remembered  his  own  rough  treatment  when 
captured  by  the  youthful  Bentings,  and  noticed 
with  a  curious  sensation  that  they  had  not  taken  the 
precaution  to  tie  the  real  rogue's  hands. 

"You  shouldn't  be  partial  in  bestowing  your 
favors,"  he  said,  calling  their  attention  to  the 
circumstance. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Lon,  carelessly.  "  We  were  green 
at  the  trade  when  we  began  with  you.  There's 
nothing  like  getting  used  to  a  new  line  of  busi- 
ness." 

Judge  West  presently  arrived,  having  been  found 


274  HIS    ONE   FAULT. 

picking  pears  in  his  garden  ;  and  Brunlow,  arraigned 
on  a  charge  of  purloining  Elsie's  scissors  and 
thimble,  was  committed  in  default  of  bail,  his 
examination  being  appointed  for  the  following  day. 

On  that  occasion  Kit  and  Eli  Badger  also 
appeared  as  witnesses  against  him,  for  appropriating 
and  fraudulently  selling  Dandy  Jim  ;  and  still  other 
complaints  were  entered  by  people  whose  spoons 
had  been  found  in  his  bag,  —  for  all  which  offences 
he  was  brought  to  trial  in  December  and  given 
seven  years  to  think  them  over,  in  the  place  which 
the  state  provides  for  wrong-doers  detected  in  such 
irregular  ways. 

The  charge  against  Kit  was  dropped,  of  course. 

And  his  one  fault  ? 

If  he  was  not  quite  cured  of  that,  we  can  at  least 
say  that  it  has  not  since  caused  him  any  serious 
mishap  or  inconvenience.  At  the  same  time  he  will 
tell  you  that  the  experience  gained  by  the  famous 
Dandy  Jim  adventure  has  been  worth  to  him  infi- 
nitely more  than  it  cost. 

He  not  only  dined  that  day  with  the  Bentings 
when  Elsie  invited  him,  but  sat  often  at  their  table 
afterward,  her  brothers  nowise  objecting,  they  hav- 
ing become  his  ardent  friends. 

He  went  back  to  live  with  Uncle  and  Aunt  Gray ; 


HIS    ONE   FAULT.  2/5 

but  it  was  on  new  terms  and  with  new  hopes, 
since  his  acquaintance  with  the  family  at  Maple 
Park  had  enlarged  his  ideas  of  a  farmer's  life, 
quickened  his  aspirations,  and  rilled  his  mind  and 
heart  with  visions  of  a  noble  life  and  happy  future. 


THE  END. 


LEE  AND  SHH  AUL'S  ILLUSTRATED   JUVENILES 


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THE   START  IN  LIFE   SERIES.    4  volumes. 

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victory.  It  will  recall  to  many  a  man  his  experience  in  teaching  pupils,  and 
in  managing  their  opinionated  and  self-willed  parents.  The  story  has  I  he 
charm  which  is  always  found  in  Mr.  TROWBRIDGE'S  works. 

"  Many  a  teacher  could  profit  by  reading  of  this  plucky  little  schoolmaster." 
—  Journal  of  Education. 

His  One  Fault.    By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.    Illustrated.    $1.25. 

"As  for  the  hero  of  this  story,  'His  One  Fault  'was  absent-mindedness.  He 
forgot  to  lock  his  uncle's  stable  door,  and  the  horse  was  stolen.  In  seeking  to 
recover  the  stolen  horse,  he  unintentionally  stole  another.  In  trying  to  restore 


literature."  —  Woman's  Journal. 

Peter  Budstone.    By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.    Illustrated.    $1.25. 

"  TROWBRIDGE'S  other  books  have  been  admirable  and  deservedly  popular, 
but  this  one,  in  our  opinion,  is  the  best  yet.  It  is  a  story  at  once  spirited  and 
touching,  with  a  certain  dramatic  and  artistic  quality  that  appeals  to  the  literary 
sense  as  well  as  to  the  story-loving  appetite.  In  it  Mr.  TROWBRIDGE  has  not 
lectured  or  moralized  or  remonstrated;  he  has  simply  shown  boys  what  they 
are  doing  when  they  contemplate  hazing.  By  a  gooo!  artistic  impulse  we  are 
not  shown  the  hazing  at  all  ;  when  the  story  begins,  the  hazing  is  already  over, 
and  we  are  introduced  immediately  to  the  results.  It  is  an  artistic  touch  also 
that  the  boy  injured  is  not  hurt  because  he  is  a  fellow  of  delicate  nerves,  but  be- 
cause of  his  very  strength,  and  the  power  with  which  he  resisted  until  overcome 
by  numbers,  and  subjected  to  treatment  which  left  him  insane.  1  1  is  insanity 
takes  the  torm  of  harmless  delusion,  and  the  absurdity  of  his  ways  and  talk 
enables  the  author  to  lighten  the  sombreness  without  weakening  tfie  moral,  in 
a  way  that  ought  to  win  all  boys  to  his  side."  —  The  Critic. 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  BOSTON,  SEND  THEIR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  FREE 


J.  T,  TROWBRIDGE'S  BOOKS 


THE   SILVER  MEDAL   STORIES.    6  volumes. 

The  Silver  3Iedal,  AND   OTHER  STORIES.      By  J.   T.   TROW- 

Illustrated.    $1.25. 
There  were  s 

? 


There  were  some  schoolboys  who  had  turned  housebreakers,  and  among  their 
hinder  was  a  silver  medal  that  had  been  given  to  one  John  Harrison  r>y  the 
lumane  Society  for  rescuing  from  drowning  a  certain  Benton  Harry.  Now 
Benton  Barry  was  one  of  the  wretched  housebreakers.  This  is  the  summary 
of  the  opening  chapter.  The  story  is  intensely  interesting  in  its  serious  as 
well  as  its  humorous  parts. 

His  Own  Master.     ByJ.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.    Illustrated.    $1.25. 

"  This  is  a  book  after  the  typical  boy's  own  heart.  Its  hero  is  a  plucky  young 
fellow,  who,  seeing  no  chance  for  himself  at  home,  determines  to  make  Ills  own 
way  in  the  world.  .  .  .  He  sets  out  accordingly,  trudges  to  the  far  West,  and 
finds  the  road  to  fortune  an  unpleasantly  rough  one."  —  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"  \Ve  class  this  as  one  of  the  best  stories  for  boys  we  ever  read.  The  tone  is 
perfectly  healthy,  and  the  interest  is  kept  up  to  the  end."  —  Boston  Home 
Journal. 

Bound  in  Honor.    ByJ.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.    Illustrated.    $1.25. 

This  story  is  of  a  lad,  who,  though  not  guilty  of  any  bad  action,  had  been  an 
•ye-witness  of  the  conduct  of  his  comrades,  and  felt  "  Bound  in  Honor"  not 
to  tell. 

"  The  glimpses  we  get  of  New  England  character  are  free  from  any  distor 
tion,  and  their  humorous  phases  are  always  entertaining.  Mr.  TROWBRIDGE'S 
brilliant  descriptive  faculty  is  shown  to  great  advantage  in  the  opening  chapter 
of  the  book  by  a  vivid  picture  of  a  village  fire,  and  is  manifested  elsewhere  with 
equally  telling  effect."  —  Boston  Courier. 

The  Pocket  Rifle.    By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.    Illustrated.    $1.25. 

"  A  boy's  story  which  will  be  read  with  avidity,  as  it  ought  to  be,  it  is  so 
brightly  and  frankly  written,  and  with  such  evident  knowledge  of  the  tempera- 
ments and  habits,  the  friendships  and  enmities  of  schoolboys."  —  New  York 
Mail. 

"This  is  a  capital  story  for  boys.  'TROWBRIDGE  never  tells  a  story  poorly. 
It  teaches  honesty,  integrity,  and  friendship,  and  how  best  they  can  be  pro- 
moted. It  shows  the  danger  of  hasty  judgment  and  circumstantial  evidence; 
that  right-doing  pays,  and  dishonesty  never."  —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

The  Jolly  Rover.  By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.  Illustrated.  $1.25. 
"  This  book  will  help  to  neutralize  the  ill-effects  of  any  poison  which  children 
may  have  swallowed  in  the  way  of  sham-adventurous  stories  and  wildly  fictitious 
tales.  'The  Jolly  Rover'  runs  away  from  home,  and  meets  life  as  it  is,  till  he 
is  glad  enough  to  seek  again  his  father's  house.  Mr.  TROWBRIDGE  has  the 
power  of  making  an  instructive  story  absorbing  in  its  interest,  and  of  covering 
a  moral  so  that  it  is  easy  to  take."  —  Christian  Intelligencer. 

Young1  Joe,  AND  OTHER  BOYS.    ByJ.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.     Illus- 
trated.   $1.25. 

•'  Young  Joe,"  who  lived  at  Bass  Cove,  where  he  shot  wild  ducks,  took  some 
to  town  for  sale,  and  attracted  the  attention  of  a  portly  gentleman  fond  of  shoot- 
ing. This  gentleman  went  duck  shooting  with  Joe,  and  their  adventures  were 
more  amusing  to  the  boy  than  to  the  amateur  sportsman. 

There  are  thirteen  other  short  stories  in  the  book  which  will  be  sure  to  please 
the  young  folks.  _ 

The  Vagabonds  :    AN  ILLUSTRATED  POEM.    By  J.  T.  TROW- 
BRIDGE.    Cloth.     $1.50. 

"The  Vagabonds  "  are  a  strolling  fiddler  and  his  dog.  The  fiddler  has  been 
ruined  by  drink,  and  his  monologue  is  one  of  the  most  pathetic  and  effective 
pieces  in  our  literature. 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  BOSTON,  SEND  THEIR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  FREE. 


J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE'S  BOOKS 


THE  TOBY  TRAFFORD   SERIES.    3  volumes. 

The  Fortunes  of  Toby  Trafford.     By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE. 

Illustrated.     $1.25. 

"  If  to  make  children's  stories  as  true  to  nature  as  the  stories  whi<-h  the 
masters  of  fiction  write  for  children  of  a  larger  growth  be  an  uncommon 
achievement,  and  one  that  is  worthy  of  wide  recognition,  that  recognition 
"should  be  given  to  Mr.  J.  T.  TKOWBRIDGE  for  his  many  achievements  in  this 
difficult  walk  of  literary  art.  Mr.  TROWBRIDGK  has  a  good  pcrceptiivi  of 
character,  which  he  draws  with  skill;  he  has  abundance  of  invention,  which  he 
never  abuses  ;  and  he  has,  what  so  many  American  writers  have  not,  an  easy, 
graceful  style,  which  can  be  humorous,  or  pathetic,  or  poetic."  —  R .  H.  StoJJarJ 
in  New  York  Mail, 

Father  Brighthopes  :  Ax  OLD  CLERGYMAN'S  VACATION     By 
J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.    Illustrated.    $1.25. 

This  hook  was  published  in  the  early  fifties  by  Phillips,  Sampson  &  Co.,  of 
which  firm  Mr.  Lee  (of  Lee  and  Shepard)  was  then  a  member.  Jt  was  very 
favorably  received,  and  was  followed  by  other  stories, —  a  long  series  of  them, 

—  still  lengthening,  and  which,  it  is  hoped,  may  be  prolonged    indefinitely. 
Recently  a  new  edition  has  appeared,  and  for  a  preface  the  author  has  related 
with  touching  simplicity  the  account  of  his  first  experience  in  authorship. 

It  is  well  known  that  Mr.  TKOWBRIDGE  is  primarily  a  port.  Some  beautiful 
poems  of  his  were  printed  in  the  early  numbers  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  (in 
company  with  poems  by  LONGFELLOW,  EMERSON,  LOWELL,  and  HOLM  EH), 
and  were  well  received.  "At  Sea"  is  a  gem  that  has  become  classic.  The 
poetic  faculty  has  not  been  without  use  to  the  story-writer.  The  perception  of 
beauty  in  nature  and  in  human  nature  is  always  evident  even  in  his  realistic 
prose.  But  his  poetic  gift  never  leads  him  into  sentimentality,  and  his  char- 
acters are  true  children  of  men,  with  natural  faults  as  well  as  natural  gift«  and 
graces.  His  stories  are  intensely  human,  with  a  solid  basis,  and  wiih  an 
instinctive  dramatic  action.  lie  has  never  written  an  uninteresting  book. 

Woodie  Thorpe's  Pilgrimage,    AND  OTHER  STORIES.     By 
J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.     Illustrated.    $1.25. 

"  The  scenes  are  full  of  human  interest  and  lifelikeness,  and  will  please  many 
an  old  reader,  as  well  as  the  younger  folks  for  whose  delectation  ii  is  intended. 
As  in  all  the  books  of  this  author  the  spirit  is  manly,  sincere,  and  in  the  best 
sense  moral  There  is  no  'goody*  talk  and  no  cant,  but  principles  of 
truthfulness,  integrity,  and  self-reliance  are  quietly  inculcated  by  example. 
It  is  safe  to  say  that  any  boy  will  be  the  better  for  reading  books  like  this." 

—  St.  Botolph. 

Neighbors' Wives.    By  J.  T.  TROWBRIDGE.     Cloth.    $1.50. 

As  a  novelty,  the  following  acrostic  is  presented.  The  praise  from  the  dif. 
ferent  newspapers  is  brief,  but  to  the  point. 

N  ot  in  the  least  tiresome. —  Troy  Press. 

K  xquisite  touches  of  character. —  Salem  Observer. 

I  ntroducing  strong  scenes  with  rare  skill. —  Gloucester  Tflft^rafh. 

O  roups  well  certain  phases  of  character.  —  Neiv  Bedford  Standard. 

II  appy  sprightliness  of  style  and  vivacity  which  fascinates  —  Dover  Legion. 

II  y  manv  considered  the  author's  best. —  Journal. 

O  ne  of  the  best  of  TROWHRIDGK'S  stories. —  Commonwealth. 

K  ender  finds  it  difficult  to  close  the  book.  —  Hearth  and  Home. 

S  toryall  alive  with  ad  ventures  and  incidents  striking  a  ml  \\\-\<\.— Dor rr  Star. 
\V  hich  is  one  of  TROWBRIDOE'S  brightest  and  best. —  Boston  Transcript. 

I  *  destini-d  to  be  enjoyed  mightily. —  Salem  Observer. 
V  ery  pleasant  reading.'—  Nc-.'J  York  Ltader . 
E  xcels  any  of  the  author's  former  books.  —  Montana  American. 

S  tory  is  in  the  author's  best  vein.  —  New  Haven  tttgister. 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  BOSTON,  SEND  THEIR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  FREE. 


OLIVER   OPTICS    BOOKS 


All-Over-the- World  Library.   By  OLIVER  OPTIC.   First  Series. 
Illustrated.     Price  per  volume,  $1.25. 

1.    A  Missing  Million  ;  OR,  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  Louis  BELGRADE. 
9.    A  Millionaire   at  Sixteen;  OR,  THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  "GUARDIAN 
MOTHER." 

3.  A  Young  Knight  Errant;  OR,  CRUISING  IN  THE  WEST  INDIES. 

4.  Strange  Sights  Abroad ;  OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  EUROPEAN  WATERS* 

No  author  has  come  before  the  public  during  the  present  generation  who 
has  achieved  a  larger  and  more  deserving  popularity  among  young  people  than 
"  Oliver  Optic."  His  stories  have  been  very  numerous,  but  they  have  been 
uniformly  excellent  in  moral  tone  and  literary  quality.  As  indicated  in  the 
general  title,  it  is  the  author's  intention  to  conduct  the  readers  01"  this  enter- 
taining series  "  around  the  world."  As  a  means  to  this  end,  the  hero  of  the 
story  purchases  a  steamer  which  he  names  the  "  Guardian  Mother,"  and 
with  a  number  of  guests  she  proceeds  on  her  voyage.  —  Christian  Work,  N.  Y. 

All-Over-the- World   Library.     By  OLIVER  OPTIC.     Second 
Series.     Illustrated.     Price  per  volume,  $1.25. 

1.    American  Boys  Afloat;    OR,  CRUISING  IN  THE  ORIENT. 
3.    The    Young    Navigators ;    OR,    THE    FOREIGN    CRUISE    OF    THE 
"  MAUD." 

3.  Up  and  Down  the  Nile ;  OR,  YOUNG  ADVENTURERS  IN  AFRICA. 

4.  Asiatic  Breezes ;  OR,  STUDENTS  ON  THE  WING. 

The  interest  in  these  stories  is  continuous,  and  there  is  a  great  variety  of 
exciting  incident  woven  into  the  solid  information  which  the  book  imparts  so 
generously  and  without  the  slightest  suspicion  of  dryness.  Manly  boys 
will  welcome  this  volume  as  cordially  as  they  did  its  predecessors.  —  Boston 
Gazette. 

All-Oyer-the-World  Library,    By  OLIVER  OPTIC.    Third  Se- 
ries.    Illustrated.     Price  per  volume,  $1.25. 

1.  Across  India ;  OR,  LIVE  BOYS  IN  THE  FAR  EAST. 

a.  Half  Round  the  World ;  OR,  AMONG  THE  UNCIVILIZED. 

3.  Four  Young  Explorers ;  OR,  SIGHT-SEEING  IN  THE  TROPICS. 

4.  Pacific  Shores ;  OR,  ADVENTURES  IN  EASTERN  SEAS. 

Amid  such  new  and  varied  surroundings  it  would  be  surprising  indeed  if  the 
author,  with  his  faculty  of  making  even  the  commonplace  attractive,  did  not 
tell  an  intensely  interesting  story  of  adventure,  as  well  as  give  much  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  the  distant  countries  through  which  our  friends  pass,  and 
the  strange  peoples  with  whom  they  are  brought  in  contact.  This  book,  and 
indeed  the  whole  series,  is  admirably  adapted  to  reading  aloud  in  the  family 
circle,  each  volume  containing  matter  which  will  interest  all  the  members  oif 
the  family.  —  Boston  Budget. 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  BOSTON,  SEND  THEIR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  FREE. 


OLIVER  OPTIC'S   BOOKS 

The  Great  Western  Series.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  In  six  vol- 
umes. Illustrated.  Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price  per 
volume,  $1.25. 

1.  Going  West;  OR,  THE  PERILS  OF  A  POOR  BOY. 

2.  Out  West;  OR,  ROUGHING  IT  ON  THE  GREAT  LAKES. 

3.  Lake  Breezes;  OR,  THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  SYLVANIA. 

4.  Going  South;  OR,  YACHTING  ON  THE  ATLANTIC  COAST. 

5.  Down  South;  OR,  YACHT  ADVENTURES  IN  FLORIDA. 

6.  Up  the  River;  OR,  YACHTING  ON  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

"This  is  the  latest  series  of  books  issued  by  this  popular  writer,  and  dealt 
with  life  on  the  Great  Lakes,  for  which  a  careful  study  was  made  by  the  author 
in  a  summer  tour  of  the  immense  water  sources  of  America.  The  story,  which 
carries  the  same  hero  through  the  six  books  of  the  series,  is  always  entertain- 
ing, novel  scenes  and  varied  incidents  giving  a  constantly  changing  yet  always 
attractive  aspect  to  the  narrative.  OLIVER  Ol'Tic  has  written  nothing  better." 

The  Yacht  Cluh  Scries.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  In  six  volumes. 
Illustrated.  Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price  per  volume, 
$1.25. 

1.  Little  Bobtail;  OR,  THE  WRECK  OF  THE  PENOBSCOT. 

2.  The  Yacht  Club;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  BOAT  BUILDERS. 

3.  Money-Maker;  OR,  THE  VICTORY  OF  THE  BASILISK. 

4.  The  Coming  Wave;  OR,  THE  TREASURE  OF  HIGH  ROCK, 
6.  The  Dorcas  Club;  OR,  OUR  GIRLS  AFLOAT. 

6.  Ocean  Born;  OR,  THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  CLUBS. 

"The  series  has  this  peculiarity,  that  all  of  its  constituent  volumes  arc  inde- 
pendent of  one  another,  and  therefore  each  story  is  complete  in  itself.  OLIVER 
OPTIC  is,  perhaps,  the  favorite  author  of  the  boys  and  jjirls  of  this  country,  and 
he  seems  destined  to  enjov  an  endless  popularity.  He  deserves  liis  success, 
for  he  makes  very  interesting  stories,  and  inculcates  none  but  the  best  senti- 
ments, and  the  '"Yacht  Club'  is  no  exception  to  this  rule."  —  Ne-M  Haven. 
Journal  and  Courier. 

Onward  and  Upward  Series.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  In  six 
volumes.  Illustrated.  Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price 
per  volume,  $1.25. 

1.  Field  and  Forest;  OR,  THE  FORTUNES  OF  A  FARMER. 

J2.  Plane  and  Plank;  OR,  THE  MISHAPS  OF  A  MECHANIC. 

3.  Desk  and  Debit;  OR,  THE  CATASTROPHES  OF  A  CLERK. 

4.  Cringle  and  Crosstree;  OR,  THE  SEA  SWASHES  OF  A  SAILOR. 

5.  Bivouac  and  Battle;  OR,  THE  STRUGGLES  OF  A  SOLDIER. 

6.  Sea  and  Shore;  OR,  THE  TRAMPS  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 

"Paul  Farringford,  the  hero  of  these  talcs,  is,  like  most  of  this  author's 
heroes,  a  youne  man  of  high  spirit,  and  of  high  aims  and  correct  principles, 
appearing  in  the  different  volumes  as  a  farmer,  a  captain,  a  bookkeeper,  a 
soldier,  a  sailor,  and  a  traveller.  In  all  of  them  the  hero  meets  with  very 
exciting  adventures,  told  in  the  graphic  style  for  which  the  author  is  famous.' 

Uhe  Lake  Shore  Series.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  In  six  volumes. 
Illustrated.  Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price  per  volume, 
$1.25. 

1.  Through  by  Daylight;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  ENGINEER  OF  THE  LAKE 

SHORE  RAILROAD. 

2.  Lightning  Express;  OR,  THE  RIVAL  ACADEMIES. 

:{.  On  Time;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  UCAYGA  STEAMER. 

4.  Switch  Off;  OR,  THE  WAR  OF  THE  STUDENTS. 

5.  Brake  Up;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  PEACEMAKERS. 

6.  Bear  and  Forbear;  OK,  THE  YOUNO  SKIPPER  OF  LAKE  UCAYGA. 

"  OLIVER  OPTIC  is  one  of  the  most  fascinating  writers  for  youth,  and  withal 
one  of  the  best  to  be  found  in  this  or  any  past  age.  Troops  of  youngr  people 
hang  over  his  vivid  pages ;  and  not  one  of  them  ever  learned  to  be  mean,  ignoble, 
cowardly,  selfish,  or  to  yield  to  any  vice  from  anything  they  ever  read  fro-m  his 
pen."  —  Providence  Prest. 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD.  BOSTON.  SEND  THEIR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  FREE. 


OLIVER  OPTIC'S  BOOKS 


Army  and  Navy  Stories.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  Six  volumes. 
Illustrated.  Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price  per  volume, 
$1.25. 

1.  The  Soldier  Boy;  OR,  TOM  SOMERS  IN  THE  ARMY. 

2.  The  Sailor  Boy;  OK,  JACK  SOMERS  IN  THE  NAVY. 

3.  The  Young  Lieutenant;  OR,  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  ARMY  OFFICER. 

4.  The  Yankee  Middy;  OR,  ADVENTURES  OF  A  NAVY  OFFICER. 

5.  Fighting  Joe;  OR,  THE  FORTUNES  OF  A  STAFF  OFFICER. 

6.  Brave  Old  Salt;  OR,  LIFE  ON  THE  OJJARTER  DECK. 

"  This  series  of  six  volumes  recounts  the  adventures  of  two  brothers,  Tom 
and  Jack  Somers,  one  in  the  armv,  the  other  in  the  navy,  in  the  great  Civil  War. 
The  romantic  narratives  of  the  fortunes  and  exploits  of  the  brothers  are  thrill- 
ing in  the  extreme.  Historical  accuracy  in  the  recital  of  the  great  events  of 
that  period  is  strictly  followed,  and  the  result  is,  not  only  a  library  of  entertain- 
ing volumes,  but  also  the  best  history  of  the  Civil  War  for  young  people  ever 
written." 

3oat  Builders  Series.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  In  six  volumes. 
Illustrated.  Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price  per  volume, 

$1.25. 

1.  All  Adrift;  OR,  THE  GOLDWING  CLUB. 

2.  Snug  Harbor;  OR,  THE  CHAMPLAIN  MECHANICS. 

;{.   Square  and  Compasses;  OR,  BUILDING  THE  HOUSE. 

4.  Stem  to  Stern;  OR,  BUILDING  THE  BOAT. 

5.  All  Taut;  OR,  RIGGING  THE  BOAT. 

6.  Ready  About;  OR,  SAILING  THE  BOAT. 

"  The  scries  includes  in  six  successive  volumes  the  whole  art  of  boat  buildinjg-, 
boat  ringing,  boat  managing,  and  practical  hints  to  make  the  ownership  of  a 
boat  pay.  A  great  deal  of  useful  information  is  given  in  this  Boat  Builders 
Series,  and  in  -ach  book  a  very  interesting  story  is  interwoven  with  the  infor- 
mation. fi>ery  reader  will  be  interested  at  once  in  Dory,  the  hero  of  'All 
Adrift,'  and  one  of  the  characters  retained  in  the  subsequent  volumes  of  the 
series.  His  friends  will  not  want  to  lose  sight  of  him,  and  every  boy  who 
makes  his  acquaintance  in  '  All  Adrift '  will  become  his  friend." 

Hiverdale  Story  Books.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  Twelve  vol- 
umes. Illustrated.  Illuminated  covers.  Price :  cloth,  per 
set,  $3.60;  per  volume,  30  cents;  paper,  per  set,  $2.00. 

1.  Little  Merchant.  7.     Proud  and  Lazy. 

2.  Young  Voyagers.  8.    Careless  Kate. 

3.  Christmas  Gift.  9.    Robinson  Crusoe,  Jr. 

4.  Dolly  and  I.  1O.    The  Picnic  Party. 

5.  Uncle  Ben.  11.    The  Gold  Thimble. 

6.  Birthday  Party.  12.    The  Do-Somethings. 

Ri  \erdale  Story  Books.     By  OLIVER   OPTIC.     Six  volumes. 

Illustrated.     Fancy  cloth  and  colors.     Price  per  volume,  30 

cents. 

t.    Little  Merchant.  4.    Careless  Kate. 

2.     Proud  and  Lazy.  5.    Dolly  and  I. 

8.    Young  Voyagers.  6.     Robinson  Crusoe,  Jr. 

Flora  Lee  Library.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  Six  volumes.  Illus- 
trated. Fancy  cloth  and  colors.  Price  per  volume,  30 
tents. 

1.  The  Picnic  Party.  4.    Christmas  Gift. 

2.  The  Gold  Thimble.  5.    Uncle  Ben. 

3.  The  Do-Somethings.  6.    Birthday  Party. 

These  are  bright  short  stories  for  younger  children  who  are  unable  to  com 
prehend  the  Starry  Flag  Series  or  the  Army  and  Navy  Series.  But  they 
all  display  the  author's  talent  for  pleasing  and  interesting  the  little  folks.  They 
are  all  fresh  and  original,  preaching  no  sermons,  but  inculcating  good  lessons. 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  BOSTON,  SEND  THEIR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  FR" 


OLIVER  OPTIC'S  BOOKS 


The  Blue  and  the  Gray  — Afloat.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  Six 
volumes.  Illustrated.  Beautiful  binding  in  blue  and  gray, 
with  emblematic  dies.  Cloth.  Any  volume  sold  separately. 
Price  per  volume,  $1.50. 

1.    Takon  by  the  Knemy.  4.     Stan<l  by  the  Union. 

«.    Within  the  Enemy's  Lines.  5.     Fiirbtinir  fo<-  tho  Kifirht. 

3.    On  the  Blockade.  6.    A  Victorious  Union. 

The  Blue  and  the  Gray  —  on  Land. 

1.     Brother  aeatiigt  Brother.         :i.     A   Limit-mint  at  Eighteen. 
••I.    In  the  Saddle.  4      On  the  Staff. 

5.     At  the  Front. 

(  Volume  Six  in  preparation,') 

"There  never  has  been  a  more  interesting  writer  in  the  field  of  juvenile 
literature  than  Mr.  W.  T.  ADAMS,  who,  under  his  well-known  pseudonym,  is 
known  and  admired  by  every  boy  and  girl  in  the  country,  and  by  thousands 
who  have  long  since  passed  tho  boundaries  of  youth,  yet  who  remember  with 
pleasure  the  genial,  interesting-  pen  that  did  so  much  to  interest,  instruct,  and 
entertain  their  younger  years.  'The  Blue  and  the  Gray'  is  :i  title  tli.it  is  suf- 
riciently  indicative  of  the  nature  and  spirit  of  the  latest  series,  while  the  name 
of  OLIVER  OPTIC  is  sufficient  warrant  of  the  absorbing  style  of  narrative.  This 
series  is  as  bright  and  entertaining  as  any  work  that  Mr.  ADAMS  has  vet  put 


which  makes  it  a  most  attractive  volume.    — Boston  Budget 


Woodville  Stories.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  Six  volumes.  Illus- 
trated. Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price  per  volume,  $1.25. 

1.  Rich  and  Humble;  OR,  THE  MISSION  OF  BERTHA  GRANT. 

2.  In  School  and  Out;  OR,  THE  CONOJJEST  OF  RICHARD  GRANT. 

3.  Watch  and  Walt;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  FUGITIVES. 

4.  Work  and  Win;  OR,  NODDY  NEWMAN  ON  A  CRUISE. 

5.  Hope  ami  Have;  OR,  FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS 

6.  Haste  and  Waste;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  PILOT  OF  LAKH;  CHAMPLAIR. 
"Though  we  are  not  so  young  as  we  once  were,  we  relished  these  stories 

almost  as  muc'h  as  the  boys  and  girls  for  whom  they  were  written.  They  we'  *• 
really  refreshing,  even  to  us.  There  is  much  in  them  which  is  calculaterl  <» 
inspire  a  generous,  healthy  ambition,  and  to  make  distasteful  all  reading  tev.d- 
ing  to  stimulate  base  desires."  —  Fitchburg  Reveille. 

The  Starry  Flag1  Series.  By  OLIVER  OPTIC.  In  six  volumes. 
Illustrated.  Any  volume  sold  separately.  Price  per  volume, 
$1.25. 

1.  The  Starry  Flap;  OR,  THE  YOUNG  FISHERMAN  OF  CAPK  ANN. 

2.  Breaking 'Away ;  OR,  THE  FORTUNES  OF  A  STUDENT. 

3.  Seek  and  Find;  OR,  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  SMART  BOY. 

4.  Freaks  of  Fortune;  OR,  HALF  ROUND  THE  WORLD. 

5.  Make  or  Break;  OR,  THE  RICH  MAN'S  DAUGHTER. 

0.  Down  the  River;  OR,  BUCK  BRADFORD  AND  THE  TYRANTS. 

"  Mr.  ADAMS,  the  celebrated  and  popular  writer,  familiarly  known  as  OMVK^ 
OPTIC,  seems  to  have  inexhaustible  funds  for  weaving  together  the  virtues  of 
life;  and,  notwithstanding  he  has  written  scores  of  books,  the  same  freshness 
and  novelty  run  through  them  all.  Some  people  think  the  sensational  element 
predominates.  Perhaps  it  does.  But  a  book  ft>r  young  people  needs  this,  and 
so  long  as  good  sentiments  are  inculcated  such  books  ought  to  be  read." 

LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  BOSTON,  SEND  THEIR  COMPLETE  CATALOGUE  FREE. 


JT.E  AND  SHEPARD'S 

STAR  JUVENILES 


WITH  NEW  AND  ATTRACTIVE  DIES. 

MESSRS.  S.EE  AND  SHEPARD  announce  a  new  edition  of  this  fine  line  of  12mo 
Juvetnies,  consisting  of  books  by  KELLOGG,  KINGSTON,  BALLANTYNK, 
HEADLEY,  and  others.  Printed  on  a  fine  quality  of  paper,  fully  illustrated,, 
and  bound  in  polished  buckram  cloth,  at  $1.00  per  volume.  Liberal  discount 
for  quantities. 

By  ELIJAH  KELLOOQ. 
Lion  Ben  of  Elm  Island. 
Charlie  Bell  ;   The  Waif  of  Elm  Island. 
The  Ark  of  Elm  Island. 
The  Boy  Farmers  of  Elm  Island. 
The  Young  Shipbuilders  of  Elm  Island. 
The  Hardscrabble  of  Elm  Island. 
Sowed  by  the  Wind  ;  or,  The  Poor  Boy's  Fortune. 
Wolf  Run  ;  or,  The  Boys  of  the  Wilderness. 
Brought  to  the  Front  -,  or,  The  Young  Defenders. 
The  Mission  of  Black  Rifle  ;  or.  On  the  Trail. 
Forest  Glen  ;  or,  The  Mohawk's  Friendship. 
Burying  the  Hatchet;  or,  The  Young  Brave  of  the  Delaware^. 
A  Strong:  Arm  and  a  Mother's  Blessing. 

The  Unseen  Hand;  or,  James  Renfew  and  his  Boy  Helpers. 
The  Liv^J  Oak  Boys  ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  Richard  Constable 

Afoat  and  Ashore. 
Arthu?  Brown,  the  Young  Captain. 
The  Toung  Deliverers  of  Pleasant  Cove. 
The  Cruise  of  the  Casco. 
The  Child  of  the  Island  Qlen. 
John  Godsoe's  Legacy. 
The  Fisher  Boys  of  Pleasant  Oove. 
A  Stout  Heart  ;  or,  The  Student  from  Over  the  Sea. 
A  Spark  of  Genius  ;  or,  The  College  Life  of  James  Trafton. 
The  Sophomores  of  Radcliffe  ;  or,  James  Trafton  and  his  Bos- 

ton Friends. 

The  Whispering  Pine  ;  or,  The  Graduates  of  Radcliffe. 
iThe  Turning  of  the  Tide  ;  or,  Radcliffe  Rich  and  his  Patiente. 
*  Winning  hitj  Spurs;  or,  Henry  Morton's  First  Trial. 

T3y  P.  C.  HEADLEY. 

Fijht  it  out  on  this  Line  ;  The  Life  and  Deeds  of  Gen.  U.  8.  Grant, 
Facing  the  Enemy  ;  The  Life  of  Gen.  William  Tecumseh  Sher- 

man. 

Fighting  Phil  ;  The  Life  of  Lieut.-Gen.  Philip  Henry  Sheridan. 
Old  Salamander  ;  The  Life  of  Admiral  David  Glascoe  Farragut 
Ta«-  Miner  Boy  and  his  Monitor  ;  The  Career  of  John  Ericsson 

Engineer. 
OJ     Stars:  The  Lifp  of  Major-Geo   Ormsby  McKnight  Mitchel 


By  GEORGE  MAKEPEACE  TOWLE. 
•Teroes  and  Martyrs  of  Invention. 
Vasco  da  Gama ;  His  Voyages  and  Adventures. 
Piaarro ;  His  Adventures  and  Conquests. 
Magellan ;  or,  The  First  Voyage  Bound  the  World, 
Marco  Polo ;  His  Travels  and  Adventures. 
Raleigh  ;  His  Voyages  and  Adventures. 
Drake ;  The  Sea  King  of  Devon. 

By  CAPT.  CHARLES  W.  HALL. 
Adrift  in  the  Ice  Fields. 

By  DR.  ISAAC  I.  HAYES. 

Cast  Away  in  the  Cold;  An  Old  Man's  Story  of  a  Young  MatiO 
Adventures. 

By  W.  H.  G.  KINGSTON. 

The  Adventures  of  Dick  Onslow  among  the  Redskins. 
Ernest  Bracebridge;  or.  School  Boy  Days. 

By  JAMES  D.  McCABE  JR. 
Planting  the  Wilderness;  or,  The  Pioneer  Boys. 

By  DR.   C.  H.  PEARSOil. 
The  Cabin  on  the  Prairie. 
The  Young  Pioneers  of  the  Northwest. 

By  JAMES  DE  MILLB. 
The  Lily  and  the  Cross ;  A  Tale  of  Acadia. 


By  F.  G.  ARMSTRONG. 

The  Young  Middy:    or,    The  Perilous   Avdentures  of  a  Bof) 
Officer. 

By  H.   M.  BALLANTYNE. 
The  Life  Boat ;  A  Tale  of  Our  Coast  Heroes. 


Sent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  pric4* 


LEF  RND  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON 


AMERICAN    BOYS'   SERIES 


The  books  selected  for  this  series  are 
all  thoroughly  American,  by  such  favo- 
rite American  authors  of  boys'  books  as 
Oliver  Optic,  Elijah  Kellogg,  Prof. 
James  DeMille,  and  others,  now  made 
for  the  first  time  at  a  largely  reduced 
price,  in  order  to  bring  them  within  the 
reach  of  all.  Each  volume  complete  in 
itself. 

UNIFORM  CLOTH  BINDING  ILLUS- 
TRATED NEW  AND  ATTRACTIVE  DIES 
Price  per  volume  $1.00 

1.  ALL  ABOARD  or  Life  on  the  Lake 

By  Oliver  Optic 

2.  ADRIFT   IN    THE   ICE   FIELDS    By 

Capt.  Chas.  W.  Hall 

3.  ARK  OF  ELM  ISLAND    By  Rev.  Elijah  Kellogg 

4.  BOAT  CLUB,  THE  or  the  Bunkers  of  Kippleton    ByOliver  Optic 

5.  BOY  FARMERS  OF  ELM  ISLAND,  THE    By  Rev.  Elijah  Kellogg 

6.  BOYS  OF  GRAND  PRE  SCHOOL    By  Prof.  James  DeMille 

7.  "  B.  O.  W.  C.",  THE    By  Prof.  James  DeMille. 

8.  CHARLIE  BELL  THE  WAIF  OF  ELM  ISLAND     By  Rev.  Elijah 

Kellogg 

9.  CAST  AWAY  IN  THE  COLD    By  Dr.  Isaac  I.  Hayes 

10.  CROSSING  THE  QUICKSANDS    By  Samuel  W.  Cozzens 

11.  DOWN  THE  WEST  BRANCH  or  Camps  and  Tramps  around  Ka- 

tahdin    By  Capt.  Chas.  A.  J.  Farrar 

12.  FIRE  IN  THE  WOODS    By  Prof.  James  DeMille 

13.  GOOD  OLD  TIMES    By  Rev.  Elijah  Kellogg 

14.  HARDSCRABBLE  OF  ELM  ISLAND    By  Rev.  Elijah  Kellogg 

15.  JUST  His  LUCK    By  Oliver  Optic 

16.  LION  BEN  OF  ELM  ISLAND    By  Rev.  Elijah  Kellogg 

17.  LITTLE  BY  LITTLE  or  the  Cruise  of  the  Flyaway    By  Oliver 

Optic 

18.  LOST  IN  THE  FOG    By  Prof.  James  DeMille 

19.  Now  OR  NEVER  or  the  Adventures  of  Bobby  Bright    By  Oliver 

Optic 

20.  POOR  AND  PROUD  or  the  Fortunes  of  Kate  Redburn    By  Oliver 

Optic 

21.  TRY  AGAIN  or  the  Trials  and  Triumphs  of  Harry  West    By 

Oliver  Optic 

22.  TREASURE  OF  THE  SEA    By  Prof.  James  DeMille 

23.  UP  THE  NORTH  BRANCH  a  Summer  Outing     By  Capt.  Chas. 

A.  J.  Farrar 

24.  YOUNG  SHIPBUILDERS  OF  ELM  ISLAND    By  Rev.  Eli  jah  Kellogg 

25.  YOUNG  TRAIL  HUNTERS    By  Samuel  W.  Cozzens 


LEE  and   SHEPARD   Publishers   Boston 


A     000127404    2 


